MP 



BEAUTIES 

OF 



v9 * Wm. dodd. " 




CLIFFORD AND RUTLAND. 



|i|{ii;|iij|l|||||jii:'iillli'ililllll!illilliliillliiillllllila^ 

™'"| KING HENRY. 1V.T.?'2? ^ 




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THK 

BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

BY THE LATE 

REV. WILLIAM DODD. L. L. D. 



THE 



"Htuntitu of ^Hukt^pt^vt 



REGULARLY 



SELECTED FROM EACH PLAY. 



OZSKTEHAZi INDEX; 



DIGESTING THEM UNDER PROPER HEADS. 



BY THE LATE 

REV. WILLIAM DODD, L. L. D. ^ 




Boston: - --^ 

PUBLISHED BY T. BEDLINGTON. 

1827. 



PREFAOE. 



I SHALL not attempt any labored encomiums on Shakspeare, 
or endeavour to set forth his perfections, at a time when such 
universal and just applause is paid him, and when every tongue 
is big with his boundless fame. He himself tells us. 

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily,. 

To throw a perfume on the violet, 

To smooth the ice, or add another hue 

Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 

To seek the beauteous eye of heav'n to garraahj 

Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. 
And wasteful and ridiculous indeed it would he, to say any 
thing in his praise, when presenting the vi-orld with such a 
collection of Beauties as perhaps is no wiicre to be met 
with, and, I may very .safely affirm, cannot be parailele< 0-om 
the productions of any other single author, ancient or m tdern. 
There is scarcely a topic, common with other writers, on A'hich 
he has not excelled them aii; there are many nobly j)eculiar to 
himself, where he shines unrivalled, and, Uke the eagle, proper 
«st emblem of his daring gonius, soars beyond the common 
reach, and gazes undazzled on the sn.n.^ Iliis flights are sometimes 
so bold, frigid criticism almost dares to disapprove them; and 
those narrow minds which are incapable of elevating their tdoai' 
to the -sublimity of their author's, are willing tn bring them down 
to a level with their own. Hence many n?ie passages have been 
condemned in Shakspeare, as rant and fustian, intolerable bom- 
oast, and turgid nonsense, wiiich, if read with the least glow of 
the same imagination that warmed (lie writer's bosom, would 
blaze in the robes of sublimity, and obtain the commendations of 
a Lo-nginus. And, unless some of the same spirit that elevated the 
poet, elevate the reader too, ho must not presume to talk of taste 
and elegance; he will prove a languid reader, art indifferent 
judge, and a far more indilfareiit criiic and commentator. 

It is some time sines I first proposed publishing this collection; 
for Shi.kspeare was ever, of all modern authors, my chief favour- 
ite; and during my relaxations from m.y more ::;evere and neces- 
sary studies at college, I never omitted to read and indulge myselt 
in the rapturous flights of this delightful and sweetest child of 
fancy: and when my imagination has been heated by the glowing 
ardour of his uncommon fire, have nevor failed to lament, that his 
1* 



▼i PREFACE. 

Bkauties should be so obscured, and that he himself should be 
made a kind of stage, for bungling critics to show their clumsy 
activity upon. 

It was my first intention to have considered each play criti- 
cally and regularly through all its parts; but as this would have 
swelled the work beyond proper bounds, I was obliged to confine 
myself solely to a collection of his Poetical Beauties: and I doubt 
not, every reader will find so large a fund for observation, so 
much excellent and refined morality, that he will prize the work 
as it deserves, and pay, with rae, all due adoration to the manes 
of Shakspeare. 

Longinus* tells us, that the most infallible test of the true sub- 
lime, is the impression a performance makes upon our minds 
when read or recited. " If," says he, " a person finds, that 
a performance transports not his soul, nor exalts his thoughts; 
that it calls not up into his mind ideas more enlarged than the 
mere sounds of the words convey, but on attentive examination 
its dignity lessens and declines, he may conclude, that whatever 
pierces no deeper than the ears, can never be the true sublime. 
That, on the contrary, is grand and lofty, which the more we 
consider, the greater ideas we conceive of it: whose force we 
cannot possibly withstand; which immediately sinks deep, and 
makes such impression on the mind as cannot easily be worn out 
or effaced: in a word, you may pronounce that sublime, beautiful, 
JUid genuine, which always pleases and takes equally with all 
sorts of men. For when persons of different humours, ages, pro- 
fessions, and inclinations, asfvee in the same joint approbation of 
any performance, then this union of assent, this combination of 
«o many different judgments, stamps a high and indisputable 
value on that performance, uiiich meets with such general ap- 
p.auje." This fine observation of Longinus is most remarkably 
verified in Shakspeare; for all humours, ages, and inclinations, 
jointly proclaim their a])probation and esteem of him; and will, 
I hope, be found true in most of the naj^sages which are here 
collected from hin<: 1 say, mosi:, because there arc some which I 
am convinced will not stand this lest: the old, the grave, and 
the severe, will disapprove, perhaps, the more soft (and as they 
may call them) trifling love-tales, so elegantly breathed forth, and 
BO emphatically extolled by the young, the gay, and the passionate; 
•while these will esteem as dull and languid, the sober saws of mo- 
rality, and the home-felt obscjrvations of experience. However, 
as it was my business to collect for readers of all tastes, and all 
complexions, let me desire none to disapprove what hits not their 
own humour, but to turn over the page, and they will surely find 
something acceptable and engaging. Jkit I have yet another 
apology to make, for some passages introduced merely on account 

*8ee Longinus em the iSublitne, Sect. 7. The translatton la the text i* 
frstt the i«u-»ed ^c. Soiith. 



PREFACE. va 

of their peculiarity, which to some, possibly, will appear neither 
sublime nor beautiful, and yet deserve attention, as indicating 
the vast stretch, and sometimes particular turn of the poet's 
imagination. 

There are many passages in Shakspeare so closely connected 
with the plot and characters, and on which their beauties so 
wholly depend, that it would have been absurd and idle to have 
produced them here: hence the reader will find httle of the inimita- 
ble Falstaff in this work, and not one line extracted from the 
Merry Wives of Windsor, one of Shakspeare's best, and most 
justly admired comedies: whoever reads that play, will immedi- 
ately see, there was nothing either proper or possible for this 
work; which, such as it is, I most sincerely and cordially re- 
commended to the candour and benevolence of the world: and 
wish every one that peruses it, may feel the satisfaction I have 
frequently felt in composing it, and receive such instructions and 
advantages from it, as it is well calculated and well able to be- 
stow. For my own part, better and more important things 
henceforth demanded my attention, and I here, with no small 
pleasure, take leave of Shakspeare and the critics; as this work 
was begun and finished, before I entered upon the sacred function, 
in which I am now happily employed, let mh trust, this juvenilo 
performance will prove no objection, since graver, and some very 
eminent members of the church, have thought it no improper 
employ, to comment, explain, and publish the works of their 
own country poets. ii 

W. DODD. 



THE 

SSAUTIES 

OF 

SHAKSPEARE. 

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 
ACT L 

ADVICE. 

BE thou blest Bertram ! and succeed thy father 
In manners, as in shape! Thy blood, and virtue, 
Contend for empire in thee; and thy goodness 
Share with thy birthright! Love all, trust a fcTf, 
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy 
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy friend 
Under thy own life's key : be check'd for silence, 
But never tax'd for speech. 

TOO AMBITIOUS LOVE. 

I am undone; there is no living, none. 
If Bertram be away. It were all one, 
That I should love a bright particular star. 
And think to wed it, he is so above me: 
In his bright radiance and collateral light 
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 
The hind that would be mated by the lion. 
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague 
To see him every hour; to sit and draw 
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls. 



10 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Id our heart's fable;* heart, too capable 
Of every line and trick+ of his sweet favour: J 
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
Must sanctify his relics. 

COWARDICE. 

I know him a notorious liar. 
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; 
Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, 
That they take place, when virtue's steely bones 
Look bleak in the cold wind. 

THE REMEDY OF EVILS GENERALLY IN 

OURSELVES. 

Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie. 
Which we ascribe to heaven: the fated sky 
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward pull 
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. 

CHARACTER OF A NOBLE COURTIER. 

In his youth 
He had the wit, which I can w^ell observe 
To-day in our young lords; but they may jest 
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, 
Erre they can hide their levity in honour. 
So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, 
His equal had awak'd them; and his honour, 
Clock to itself, kncAV the true minute when 
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time, 
His tongue obey'd his hand:§ Avho were below bim 
He us'd as creatures of another place: 
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks, 
Making them proud of his humility. 
Such a man 
Might be a copy to these younger times. 

♦ Helena considers her heart as the tablet on which hia 
reaemblanoe was pourtrayed. 

t Peculiarity of feature. ^Countenance. 

§ His ifl put for its. 



ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. II 

ACT n. 

HONOUR DUE TO PERSONAL VIRTUE ONLY, KOT TO 
BIRTH. 

From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
The place is dignified by the doer's deed: 
"Where great additions* swell, and virtue none, 
It is a dropsied honour: good alone 
Is good, without a name; vileness is sorf 
The property by what it is should go, 
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; 
In these to nature she's immediate heir; 
And these breed honour: that is honour's scorn, 
Which challenges itself as honour's born. 
And is not like the sire : Honours best thrive. 
When rather from our acts we them derive 
Than our foregoer: the mere word's a slave^ 
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave^ 
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, 
Where dust and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb 
Of honour'd bones indeed. 

ACT III. 

SELF-ACCUSATION OF TOO GREAT LOVE. 

Poor Lord ! is't I 
That chase thee from thy country, and expose 
Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
Of the non-sparing war? and is it I 
That drive ime from the sportive court, where thou 
Wast shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 
Of smoky muskets? O you leaden messengers, 
That ride upon the violent speed of fire. 
Fly with false aim; move the still-piercing air. 
That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord! 
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there; 
Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
I am the. caitiff, that do hold him to it; 

* Titles. 

t Good is good independent of any worldly distinction, 
and so is vileness viie. 



12 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. ^ 

And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 

His death was so effected: better 'twere 

I met the ravin* lion when he roar'd 

With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere 

That all the m'series, which nature owes, 

Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rousillon, 

Whence honour but of danger wins a scar. 

As oft it loses ail; I will be gone: 

My being here it is that holds thee hence: 

Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although 

The air of paradise did fan the house. 

And angels offic'd all: I will be gone; 

That pitiful rumour may report my flight, 

To consolate thine ear. 

A maid's honour. 
The honour of a maid is her name; and no legacy 
is so rich as honesty. 

ADVICE TO YOUNG WOMEN. 

Beware of them, Diana; their promises, entice- 
ments, oaths, tokens, and all these engines of lust, 
are not the things they go under :t many a maid hath 
been seduced by them; and the misery is, example, 
that so terrible shows in the wreck of maidenhood, 
cannot for all that dissuade succession, but that they 
are limed with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, 
I need not advise you farther; but, I hope, your 
own grace will keep you where you are, though 
there were no farther danger known, than the mod- 
esty which is so lost. 

ACT IV. 

CUSTOM OF SEDUCERS. 

Ay, so you serve us, 
Till we serve you : but when you have our rose* 
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves. 
And mock us with our bareness. 

* Ravenous. 

t They are not the things for which their names "would 
make them paso. 



ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. l^ 

CHASTITY. 

Mine honour's such a ring: 
My chastity's the jewel of our house, 
Bequeathed down from many ancestors; 
Which were the greatest obloquy i'the world, 
In me to lose. 

LIFE CHEQ.UERED. 

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good 
and ill together: our virtues would be proud, if our 
faults whipped them not; and our crimes would 
despair, if they were not cherished by our virtues. 

A COWARDLY BRAGGART. 

Yet am T thankful: if my heart were great, 
-Twould burst at this: Captain, I'll be no more; 
But I will eat and drink, and sleep as soft 
As captain shall: simply the thing I am 
Shall make me live. Who knows himself a braggart^ 
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass. 
That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
Rust, sword! cool, blushes! and, Parolles live, i 
Safest in shame! being fool'd, by foolery thrive! > 
There's place, and means, for every man alive. ) 



ACT V. 

AGAINST DELAY. 

Let's take the instant by the forward top; 
For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 
The inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
Steals ere we can effect them. 

EXCUSE FOR UNSEASONABLE DISLIKE. 

At first 
I stuck my choice upon her, ere my heart 
JD«rst make too bohl a herald of my tongue: 
Where the impression of mine eye infixing, 
Contempt his scornful perspective did lend me. 
Which warp'd the line of every other favour; 
Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n; 
Extended or contracted all proportions. 



14 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To a most hideous object: Thence it came. 
That she, whom all men prais'd, and whom myself, 
Since I have lost^ have lov'd, was in mine eye 
The dust that did ofiend it. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 
ACT I. 

MODESTY AND COURAGE IN YOUTH. 

I BESEECH you, punish me not with your hard 
thoughts; wherein 1 confess me much guilty, to 
deny so lair and excellent ladies any thing. But let 
your fair ej^es and gentle wishes, go with me to my 
trial: wherein if I be foiled, there is but one shamed 
that was never gracious; if killed, but one dead that 
is willing to be so: I shall do my friends no wrong, 
for I have none to lament me; the world no injury, 
for in it I have nothing; only in the world I fill up a 
place, which may be better supplied when I have 
made it empty. 

PLAY-FELLOWS. 

We still have slept together, 
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat together; 
A.nd wheresoe'er we went', like Juno's swans, 
Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 

BEAUTY. 

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 

ROSALIND PROPOSING TO WEAR MEN's CLOTHES. 

Were it not better, 
Because that I am more than common tall, 
That I did suit me all points like a man.'' 
A gallant curtle-ax* upon my thigh, 
A boar-spear in my hand; and (in my heart 
Lie there what hidtlen woman's fear there will,) 
We'll have a swashingf and a martial outside; 

* Cutlass. t Swaggering. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 15 

As many other manish cowards have, 
That do outface it with their semblances. 

ACT II. 

SOLITUDE PRETi'ERRED TO A COURT LIFE, AND THB 
ADVANTAGES OF ADVERSITY. 

Now, my co-mates, and brothers in exile, 
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
Than that of painted pomp.'' are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious court.'' 
Here feel v.e but the penalty of Adam, 
The seasons' difference; as the icy fang, 
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; 
Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, 
Even till I shrink v.'ith cold, I smile, and say, 
This is no ilattery: these are counsellors 
That feelingly persuade me what I am. 
Sweet are the uses of adversity; 
Which, like the toad, ugly and A-enemous, 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; 
And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 

REFLECTIONS ON THE WOUNDED STAG. 

Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison.? 
And yet it irks me, the ooor dappled fools, — 
Being native burghers of this desert city, — 
Should, in their own confines, with forked heads,* 
Have their rounci haunches gor'd. 

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord. 
The melancholy Jatpies grieves at that; 
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you» 
To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, 
Did steal behind him, as he lay along 
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: 
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag. 
That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt. 
Did come to languish: and, indeed, my lord, 
* Barbed arrows. 



16 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans, 
That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat 
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears 
Cours'd one another down his innocent nose 
In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool. 
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook, 
Augmenting it with tears. 

Duke S. But what said Jaques? 

Did he not moralize this spectacle? 

1 Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. 
First, for his weeping in the needless stream; 
Poor deer, quoth he, thou mak^st a testament 
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
To that which had too much: Then, being alone, 
Left and abandon'd of his velvet friends; 
'Tis right, quoth he; this misery doth part 
Thefiux of company; Anon, a careless herd, 
Full of the pasture, jumps along by him, 
And never stays to greet him; Ay, quoth Jaques, 
Sweep on, you fat and greasy citizens; 
''Tisjust the fashion: Wherefore do you look 
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there'? 

GRATITUDE IN AN OLD SERVANT. 

But do not so: I have five hundred crowns. 
The thrifty hire I sav'd under your father, 
Which I did store, to be my foster-nurse, 
When service should in my old limbs lie lame,. 
And unregarded age in corners thrown; 
Take that: and He that doth the ravens feed. 
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, 
Be comfort to my age! Here is the gold; 
All this I give jo\i: let me be your servant; 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: 
For in my youth I never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood : 
Nor did not with unbashful forehead vroo 
The means of weakness and debility; 
.Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, 
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 17 

I'll do the service of a younger man 
In all your business and necessities. 

DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER. 

0, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily: 
If thou remember'st not the slightest folly 
That ever love did make thee run into, 
Thou hast not lov'd: 
Or if tiiou hast not sat as I do now, 
"Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, 
Thou hast not lov'd: 
Or if thou hast not broke from company, 
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me. 
Thou hast not lov'd. 

PESCr.IPTION OF A FOOL, AND HIS MORALIZING ON 

TIME. 

Good-morrow, fool, quoth I: No, sir, quoth he, 

Call 'ine not fool, till heaven halh sent me fortune: 

And then lie drew a dial from his poke; 

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 

Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock: 

Thus may ive see, quoth he, how the world wags: 

^Tis but an hour ago since it was nine; 

Jlnd aficr an hour more, 'iwill be eleven; 

Jlnd so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe^ 

,And then, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot, 

Jlnd thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear 

The moiley fool thus moral on the time, 

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer. 

That fools should be so deep-conteinplative; 

Arif] I did laugh, sans intermission. 

An hour by his dial — O noble' fool! 

A Avorlhv fool! Motley's the only wear.* 

DiiU^S. What fool is this? 

Jaq. Q worthy fool! — One that hath been a cour- 
tier; 
And says if ladies be but young, and fair, 
They have the gift to know it: and in hi« brain, — 
Which is as dry as the reniaiader biscuit 

* The fool %v:.s anciently dressed in a party-coloured 

coat. ,;,,, 



18 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

After a voyage, — he hath strange places cramm'd 
With observation, the which he vents 
In mangled forms. 

A fool's liberty of speech. 
I must have liberty 
Withall, as large a charter as the wind, 
To blow on whom I please; for so fools have: 
And they that are most galled with my folly, 
They most must laugh: And why, sir, must they soT 
The why is plain as way to parish church: 
He, that a fool doth very wisely hit, 
Doth very foolishly, although he smart. 
Not to seem senf-eless of the bob; if not, 
The wise man's folly is anatomiz'd 
Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. 

APOLOGY FOR SATIRE 

Why, who cries out en pride, 
That can therein tax any private party? 
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea. 
Till that the very means do ebb? 
What woman in the c\iy do [ nam.e, 
When that I say, The cily-woman bears 
The cost of princes on unvrrthy shoulders? 
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her, 
When such a one a.s she^ sud^ is her neighbour? 
Or what is he of basest function, 
That says his bravery* is not on my cost, 
(^Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits 
His folly to the mettle of my speech? 
There then ; How, what tlien? Let me see wherein 
My tongue hath wrong'd him: if he be free. 
Why then, my taxing like a wild goose flies, 
Unclaim'd of any man. 

A TENDER PETITION. 

But whate'er you are, 
That in this desert inaccessible. 
Under the shade of melancholy boughs. 
Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; 
If ever you have look'd on better daysj 
* Finery. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 15 

If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church; 
If ever sat at any good man's feast; 
If ever from your eye-lids wip'd a tear, 
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied, 
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. 

THE SEVEN AGES. 

All the world's a stage. 
And all the men and women merely players: 
They have their exits, and their entrances; 
And one man in his time plays many parts. 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant 
Muling and puking in the nurse's arms; 
And then, the whining school-boy, with his satchel, 
And shining morning face, creepnig like snail 
Unwillingly to school; And then, the lover, 
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrov/. Then, a soldier; 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honour, sudden* and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 

Kven in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice 
In fair round bell}^, with good capon lin'd. 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut. 
Full of wise saws and modernf instances. 
And so he plays his part: The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon; 
With spectacle on nose, and pouch on side; 
His youthful hose well sav'd, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, 
Turning again towards childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound: Last scene of ail, 
That ends this strange eventful history. 
Is second chddishncss, and mere oblivion; 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 

INGRATITUDE. A SONG. 

Blow, blow, thou v.inter wind. 
Thou art not so unkind 
As man's ingratitude ; 

• Violent. t Trite, common 



20 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Thy tooth is not so keen, 
Because thou art not seen, 
Ah hough thy breath be rude." 
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! unto the green holly: 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: 
Then, heigh, ho, the holly! 

This life is most jolly. 
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, 
That dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot: 
Thougii thou the waters warp, 
Thy sting is not so sharp 

As friends remember'd* not. 
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho! &c. 

ACT III. 
A shepherd's philosophy. 

I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease 
he is; and that he that wants money, means, and 
content, is without three good friends: — That the 
property of rain is to wet, and lire to burn : That 
good pasture makes fat sheep; and that a great 
cause of the night, is lack of the sun- That he, that 
hath learned no wit by nature or art, may complaia 
of good breeding, or comes of a very dali kindred. 

CHARACTER OF AN HONEST AND SIMPLE SHEPHERD 

Sir, I am a true labourer; I earn Ihit I eat, get 
that I wear; owe no man hate, envy no man's hap- 

Einess; glad of other men's good, content with my 
arm; and the greatest of my pride is, to see my 
ewes graze, and my lambs suck. 

DESCRIPTION OF A LOVER. 

A lean cheek; which you have not; a blue eye, 
and sunken; which you have not: an unquestionable 
spirit ;t which you have not; a beard neglected; 
which you have not: — but I pardon you for that; 
for, simply, your having:}: in beard is a younger bro^ 
ther's revenue: Then your hose should be ungarter 

* Remembering. t A spirit averse to conversation 
t Estate. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 21 

ed, your bonet unbanded, your sleeve unbuttoned, 
your shoe untied, and every thing about you demon- 
strating a careless desolation. But you are no such 
man : you are rather point-device* in your accou- 
trements; as loving yourself, than seeming the lover 
of any other. 

REAL PASSION DISSEMBLED. 

Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 
»Tis but a peevishf boy: yet he talks well; 
But what care I for words? yet words do well, 
When he that speaks them pleases those that hear, 
It is a pretty youth: not very pretty: 
But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes 

him: 
He'll make a proper man: The best thing in him 
Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue 
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. 
He is not tall; yet for his years he's tall; 
His leg is but so, so; and yet 'tis well: 
There was a pretty redness in his lip; 
A little riper and more lusty red 
Than that mix'd in his cheek; 'twas just the differ- 
ence 
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 
There be some women, Silvius, had they marked him 
In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
To fall in love with him: but, for thy part, 
I love him not, nor hate him not; and yet 
I have more cause to hate him than to love him: 
For what had he to do to chide at me ? 
He said, mine eyes were black, and my hair black; 
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me: 
I marvel, why I ^nswer'd not again : 
But that's all one; omittance is.no quittance. 

ACT IV. 

THE VARIETIES OF MELANCHOLY. 

I have neither the scholar's melancholy, which is 
emulation; nor the musician's, which is fantastical; 
♦ Over-exact. t Silly. 



22 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

nor the courtiers, which i« proud; nor the soldier's, 
which is ambitious; nor the lawyer's, which is poli- 
tic; nor the lady's, which is nice;* nor the lover's, 
which is all of these. 

MARRIAGE ALTERS THE TEMPER OP BOTH SEXES. 

Say a day, without the ever: No, no, Orlando, 
men are April when they woo, December when they 
wed: maids are Ma^^ when they are maids, but the 
sky changes when )iicy are wives. I will be more 
iealous oi' thee thau Ja, Barbary cock-pigeon over his 
hen; more clamorous than a parrot against rain; 
more new-fangled than an ape; more giddy in my 
desires than a monkey; 1 will weep for nothing, like 
Diana in the fountain, and 1 will do that when you 
are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, 
and that when thou art inclined to sleep. 

CUPID'S PARENTAGE. 

No, that same -wicked bastard of Venus, that was 
begot of thought,t coneeiv'd of spleen, and born of 
madness; that blind rascally bo}^, that abuses every 
one's eyes, because his own are out, let him be 
judge, how deep I am in love. 

Oliver's descriptio:: of his danger when 
sleeping. 

Under an oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age, 
And high top bald with dry antiquity, 
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown vv^ith hair. 
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck 
A green and gilded snake had wreathed itself, 
Who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd 
The opening of his mouth; but suddenl}"- 
Seeing Orlando, it unlinked itself. 
And with indented glides did slip away 
Into a bush: under whic'ii bush's shade 
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry. 
Lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch^ 
When that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis • 
The royal disposition of that beast 
To prey on nothing that doth seem as dead. 

* Triflingf. f Melanchoir 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. SS 

ACT V. 

LOVE. 

Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. 
It is to be all made of sighs and tears; 
It is to be all made of faith and service; 
It is to be all made of fantasy, 
All made of passion, and all made of Avishes; 
All adoration, duty, and observance, 
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience. 
All purity, all trial, all observance. 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 

ACT II. 

man's pre-eminence. 
THERE'S nothing, situate under heav'ns eye, 
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky: 
The beasts, the fishes, and the winded fowls, 
Are their males' subject, and at their controls: 
Men, more divine, the masters of all these, 
Lords of the wide world, and wild wat'ry seas, 
Indued with intellectual sense and souls. 
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, 
Are masters to their females, and their lords: 
Then let your will attend on their accords. 

PATIENCE EASIER TAUGHT THAN PRACTISED 

Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she pause; 
They can be meek, that have no other cause. 
A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, 
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; 
But were we burden'd with like weight of pain, 
As much, f »ore, we should ourselves complain. 

DEFAMATION. 

I see, the jewel, best enamelled. 
Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still, 
That others touch, yet often touching will 
Wear gold ; and so no man, that hath a name, 
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 



24 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

JEALOUSr. 

Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and frown; 
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects, 
1 am not Adriana, nor thy wife. 
The time was once, when thou unurg'd would'st 

vow 
That never words were music to thine ear. 
That never object pleasing in thine eye, 
That never touch well-welcome to thy hand. 
That never meet sweet-savour'd in thy taste, 
Unless 1 spake, look'd, touch'd, or carv'd to thee. 

SLANDER. 

For slander lives upon succession; 
For ever hous'd, where it once gets possession. 

ACT V. 

A woman's jealousy more deadly than poison,' 

The venom clamours of a jealous woman 
Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 
It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing: 
And thereof comes it that his head is light. 
Thou say'st, his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraid«*- 

Unquiet meals make ill digestions. 

Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; 

And what's a fever but a fit of madness ? 

Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls 

Sweet recreation barr'd, w^hat doth ensue. 

Bat moody and dull melancholy, 

(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair;; 

And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 

Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life.'' 

description of a beggarly fortune-teller. 

A hungry lean-fac'd villain, 
A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 
A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller; 
A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, 
A living dead man : this pernicious slave, 
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; 
And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse. 



LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 25 

And with no face, as 'twere outfacing me. 
Cries out, I was possess'd. 

OLD AGE. 

Though now this grained* face of mine be hid 
In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, 
And all the conduits of my blood froze up; 
Yet hath my night of life some memory, 
My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left. 
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: 
All these old witnesses (I cannot err,) 
Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus. 



LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 
ACT L 

SELF-DENIAL. 

BRAVE conquerors! — for so you are, 
That war against your own affections, 
And the huge army of the world's desires. 

VANITY OF PLEASURE. 

Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain, 
Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain. 

ON STITDY. 

Study is like the heaven's glorious sun, 

That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks* 
Small have continual plodders ever won, 

Save base authoritv from others' books. 
These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights. 

That give a name to every fixed star, 
Have no more profit of their shining nights, 

Than those that walk, and wot not what they are. 
Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame; 
And evei-y godfather can give a name. 

* Furrowed, liaedk 
1* 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



An envious sneaping* frost, 
That bites the first born ialants of the spring. 

A CONCEITED COURTIER. 

A man in all the world's new fashion planted. 

That hath a mint of phrases in his brain: 
One, whom the music of his own vain tongue 

Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony; 
A man of compliments, whom right and wrong 

Have chose as umpire of their mutiny : 
This child of fancy, that Armado hi,2;ht,t 

For interim to our studies, shall rtlate. 
In high-born words, the worth of many a knight 

From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. 



ACT II. 



My beauty, though but mean. 
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise; 
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, 
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues. 

A MERRY MAN. 

A merrier man, 
Within the limit of becoming mirth, 
I never spent an hour's talk withal: 
His eye begets occasion for his wit; 
For every object that the one doth catch. 
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest: 
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,) 
Delivers in such apt and gracious words. 
That aged ears play truant at his tales, 
And younger hearings are quite ravished j 
So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 

♦ Nipping. -f Caliedr 



LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 27 

ACT in. 

HUMOUROUS DESCRIPTION OF LOVE. 

! — And I, forsooth, in love ! I, that have been 
love's whip; 
A very beadle to a humourous sigh: 
A critic; na;/, a night-watch constable; 
A domineering pedant o'er the boy, 
Than whom no mortal so magnificent! 
This wimpled,* whining, purblind, wayward boy; 
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; 
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arm, 
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
Liege of all loiterers and malecontents. 
Dread prince of plackets,! king of codpieces, 
Sole imperator, and great general 
Of trotting paritorsj — my little heart! — 
And I to be a corporal of his field. 
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! 
What.' I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife! 
A woman, that is like a German clock, 
Still a repairing; ever out of frame; 
And never going aright, being a watch, 
But being watch'd that it may still go right ^ 

ACT IV. 

SONNET. 

Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye 

('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,) 
Persuade my heart to this false perjury ? 

Vo.vs, for thee broke, deserve not punishment. 
A woman I frirswore; but, I will prove, 

Tliou being a goddess, 1 forswore not thee: 
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; 

Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me. 
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: 
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, 
Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is: 

♦ Hooded, veiled. j Petticoats. 

t The officers of the spiritual courts who serve cita- 
tjonet. 



23 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

If broken then, it is no fault of mine; 
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise, 
To lose an oath to win a paradise ? 

SONG. 

On a day, (alack the dayl) 
Love, whose month is ever May, 
Spied a blossom, passing fair. 
Playing in the wanton air: 
Through the velvet leaves the wind. 
All unseen, 'gan passage find; 
That the lover, sick to death, 
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath. 
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; 
Air, would I might triumph so! 
But, alack, my hand is sworn, 
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn: 
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; 
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. 
Do not call it sin in me, 
That I am forsworn for thee: 
Thou for whom even Jove would swear, 
Juno but an Ethiop were; 
And deny himself for Jove, 
Turning mortal for thy love. 

THE POWER OF LOVE. 

But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 
Lives not alone immured in the brain; 
But with the motion of all elements, 
Courses as swift as thought in every power; 
And gives to every power a double power, 
Above their functions and their offices. 
It adds a precious seeing to the eye; 
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind; 
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd; 
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible, 
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; 
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste: 
For valour, is not love a Hercules, 
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides ? 



LOVES LABOUR'S LOST. S9 

Subtle as sphinx, as sweet and musical, 
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair: 
And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods 
Makes heaven drowsv with the harmony. 
Never durst poet touch a pen to write, 
Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs; 
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears. 
And plant in tyrant's mild humility. 

WOMEJJ'S EYES. 

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive; 
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; 
They are the books, the arts, the academies, 
That show, contain, and nourish all the world; 
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent. 

ACT V. 

JEST A^D JESTER. 

Your task shall be 
With all the fierce* endeavour of your wit, 
To enforce the pained impotent to smile. 

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of 
death.? 
It cannot be; it is impossible: 
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. 

Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, 
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace. 
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools: 
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear 
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 
Of him that makes it. 

SONG. 

Spring. When daisies pied, and violeti=; bine. 
And lady-smock's all sib'er-white, 
And cuckoo-bnds of yellow hue. 

Do paint ihe meadows with delight, 
The cuckoo then, on every tree, 
Mocks married men, for thus sings he, 
Cuckoo; 
* Vehement. 



30 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Cuckoo, cuckoo, — word of fear, 
Unpleasing to a married earl 

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, 
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, 

When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, 
And maidens bleach their summer smocks. 

The cuckoo then, on every tree. 

Mocks married men, for thus sings he. 
Cuckoo; 

Cuckoo, cuckoo, — word of fear, 

Unpleasing to a married ear! 

Winter. When icicles hang by the wall, 

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, 
And Tom bears logs into the hall, 

And milk comes frozen home in pail. 
When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul. 
Then nightly sings the staring owl, 

To-who; 
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note. 
While greasy Joan doth keel* the pot. 

When all aloud the wind doth blow, 

And coughing drowns the parson's saw. 
And birds sit brooding in the snow, 

And Marian's nose looks red and raw, 
When roasted crabsf hiss in the bowl. 
Then nightly sings the staring owl, 

To-who ; 
To-whit, to-who, a rnerr}' note, 
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. 

MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



ACT I. 

VIRTUE GIVEN TO BE EXERTED. 

HEAVEN doth with us, as we with torches do; 
Not light them for (irsmselves: for if our virtues 



* Cool. t WUd appl< 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. SI 

Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 

As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd, 

But to fine issuer :* nor nature never lends 

The smallest scruple of her excellence. 

But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines 

Herself the glory of a creditor, 

Both thanks and use.-f 

THE CONSEQ,UENCE OF LIBERTY INDULGED, 

As surfeit is the father of much fast, 
So every scope by the immoderate use 
Turns to restraint: Our natures do pursue, 
TLike rats that ravin:}: down their proper bane,) 
A thirsty evil; and when we drink, we die. 

ELOCtUENCE AND BEAUTY, 

In her youth 
There is a prone§ and speechless dialect, 
Such as moves men; beside, she hath prosperour art 
When she will play with reason and discourse, 
And well she can persuade. 

PARDON THE SANCTION OF WICKEDNESS. 

For we bid this be done, 
When evil deeds have their permissive pass, 
And not the punishment. 

A SEVERE GOVERNOR. 

Lord Angelo is precise; 
Stands at a guard jj with envy; scarce confesses 
That his blood flows, or that his appetite 
Is more to bread than stone; Hence shall we see, 
If power change purpose, what our seemers be. 

RESOLUTION. 

Our doubts are traitors, 
And make us lose the good we oft might win, 
By fearing to attempt. 

* For high purposes. t Interest. 

X Voraciously devour § Prompt. 

fi On his defence 



68 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

THE PRATERS OF MAIDENS EFFECTUAL. 

Go to lord Angelo, 
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, 
Men give like gods; but Avhen they weep and kneel, 
All their petitions are as freely theirs 
As they themselves would owe* them. 

ACT II. 

ALL MEN FRAIL. 

Let but your honour know,t 
(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,) 
'"That, in the working of your own affections, 
Had time coherdij: with place, or place with wishing, 
Or that the resolute acting of your blood 
Could have attained the effect of your own purpose, 
Whether you had not some time in your life 
Krr'd in this point v.hich now you censure him. 
And puli'd the law upon you. 

THE FAULTS OF OTHERS NO JUSTIFICATION OV 
OUR OWN. 

'Tis one thing to be tem.pted, Escalus, 
Another thing to fall. I not deny, 
The jnry, passing on the prisoner's life, 
May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two 
Guiltier than him they try: What's open made to 

justice, 
That justice seizes. Wliat know the laws, 
That thieves do pasp§ on thieves.? 'Tis very preg- 
nant.!} 
The jewel that we find, we stoop ancl take it, 
Because we see it; but what we do not see, 
We tread upon, and never think of it. 
Vou may not so extenuate his otfence, 
Fori! I have had such faults; but rather tell me, 
When I, that censnre** him, do so offend, 
Let mine own judgment pattern out my death, 
And nothing come in partial. 

* Have. t Examine. t Suited. 

§ PaRs judgment. II Plain. T Because. 

** Scnt«nc9. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. «l 

ftJERCT FREQUENTLY MISTAKEIf. 

Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so; 
Pardon is still the nurse of second wo. 

MERCY IN GOVERNORS COMMINDEDo 

TSo ceremony that to great on-s -longs, 
Not the king's crown, nor the de./uted s>vord, 
The marshal's truncheon, nor tise judge's robe, 
Become them with one half so good a grace, 
As mercy does. 

THE DUTY OF MUTUAL FORGIVENESS 

Alas! alas! 
Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; 
And He that might the vantage best have took. 
Found out the remedy: How would you be, 
If he, which is the top of judgment, should 
But judge you as yoa are? O, think on that; 
And mercy then will breathe within your lipa. 
Like man new made. 

JUSTICE. 

Yet show some pity. 

^g. I show it most of all, when I show justice, 
For then I pity those I do not know, 
Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall: 
And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong. 
Lives not to act another. 

THE ABUSE OF AUTHORITY. 

0, it is excellent 
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant. 
Could great men thunder, 

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 
For every pelting,* petty officer. 
Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but 

thunder. 

Merciful heaven ! 

Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, 

Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarledf oak, 

* Paltry. t Knotted. 



34 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. V 

Than the 6oft myrtle — O, but man, proud man! 

Drest in a little brief authority; 

Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd. 

His glass}^ essence, — like an angry ape, , 

Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, « 

As make the angels weep: who, \vith our spleens, "^ 

Would all themselves laugh mortal. 

THE PRIVILEGE OF AUTKORITY. 

Great men may jest with saints: ''tis wit in them. 
But, in the less, fcul profandUon. 
That in the captain's but a choleric word. 
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. 

HONEST BRIBERY. 

Hark, how I'll bribe you. 

^Jig. How! bribe me? 

Jsab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shall share 
^vith you. 

Lucio. You had marr'd all else. 

Isab. Not with fond shekels of the tested* gold, 
Or stones, whose rates are either rich, or poor, 
As fancy values them: but w^ith true prayers, 
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there. 
Ere sun-rise; prayers from preservedf souls. 
From fasting maids, w'hose minds are dedicate 
To nothing temporal. 

THE POWER OF VIRTUOUS DUTY. 

Is this her fault, or mine? 
The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! 
Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I, 
That lying by the vioiet, in the sun. 
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, 
Corrupt with virtaous season. Can itbe, 
That modesty may more betray our sense 
Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground 

enough. 
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, 
And pitch our evils there ?:|: 0, fy, fy, fy ! 

♦ Attested, stamped. 

t Preserved from the corruption of the world. 

$ See 2 Kings, x. 27. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. Sd 

What dost thou? or what art thou, Angeio? 

Dost thou desire her foully, for those things 

That make her good? 0, let her brother live. 

Thieves for their robbery have authority, 

When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her, 

That I desire to hear her speak again, 

And feast upon her eyes? What is't I dream on? 

O cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint. 

With saints dost bait thy hook! Most dangerous 

Is that temptation, that doth goad us on 

To sin in loving virtue: never could the strumpet, 

With all her double vigour, art, and nature, 

Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid 

Subdues me quite. 

LOVE IN A GRAVE SEVERE GOVERNOR. 

When I would pray and think, I think and pray 
To several subjects: heaven hath my empty words; 
Whilst my invention hearing not my tongue, 
Anchors on Isabel: Heaven in my mouth, 
As if I did but only chew his name; 
And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil 
Of my conception: The state, whereon I studied, 
Is like a good thing, being often read. 
Grown fear'd and tedious; yea, my gravity, 
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride. 
Could I, with boot,* change for an idle plume, 
Which the air beats for vain. O place! O form! 
How often doft thou with thy case,t thy habit, 
W^rench awe from fonl'^, and' tie the wiser souls 
To thy false seeming? 

FORNICATION AND MURDER EQ,UALLED. 

It were as good 
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen 
A man already made, as to remit 
Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's image 
In stamps that are forbid: 'tis all as easy 
Falsely to take away a life true made, 
As to put mettle in restrained means, 
I'o make a false one 

* Profjt. t Outside. 



8^ BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

LOWLINESS OF MIND. 

Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, 
But graciously to know I am no better. 

Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most brigbt| 
When it doth tax itself. 

TEMPORAL FAR BETTER THAN ETERNAL DEATH. 

Better it were, a brother died at once, 
Than that a sister by redeeming him, 
Should die for ever. 

women's FRAILTY. 

Nav, women are frail too. 

Isah. Ay, as the glasses where they view them-. 
selves; 
Which are as easy broke as they make forms. 
Women ! — Help heaven ! men their creation mar 
In profiting by them. Nay call us ten times frail} 
For we are soft as our complexions are, 
And predulous to false prints.* 

ACT III. 

ROPE. 

The miserable have no other medicine, 
But only hope. 

REFLECTIONS ON TMS VANITY OP LIFE. 

Reason thus with life, — 
If I dolose thee, I do lose a thing 
That none but fools v/ould keep-y a breath thou art, 
(Servile to all the skiey influences,) 
That dost this habitation, Vv'hrr?; thou keep'st, 
Hourly afflict: merely, thou art death's fool; 
For him thou labour'st by thy tlici;ht to shun. 
And yet run'st toward him still: Thou art not noble; 
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st, 
Are nurs'd by baseness: thou art by no means 

valiant; 
For thou dost fear the Foft and tender fork 
Of a poor worm: Thy bett of rest is sleep, 

^ jnpr«f.«ion)?. 



ME>»SURE FOR MEASURE. SJ 

And that thou oft provok'st: yet grossly fear'st 
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not thyself; 
For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains 
That issue out of dust: Happy thou art not: 
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get 
And what thou hast, forget'st: Thou art not certain j 
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,* 
After the moon: if thou art rich, thou art poorj 
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, 
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey, 
And death unloads thee: Friend hast thou none; 
For thine own bowels, which do call thee sire. 
The mere effusion of thy proper loins, 
Do curse the gout, serpigo,! and the rheum, 
For ending thee no sooner: Thou hast nor youthy 

nor age: 
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep. 
Dreaming on both: for all thy blessed youth 
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
Of palsied eld;+ and Avhen thou art old, and rich, 
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty ^ 
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in thisj 
That bears the name of life .'' yet in this life 
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we fear. 
That makes these odds all even. 

THE TERRORS OF DEATH MOST IN APPREHENSION 

0, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake. 
Lest thou a ferverous life should'st entertain. 
And six or seven winters more respect 
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die? 
The sense of death is most in apprehension; 
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, 
'.^ In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
As when a giant dies. 

RESOLUTION FROM A SENSE OF HONOUR. 

Why give you me this shame.'' 
Think you I can a resolution fetch 
From fiowery tenderness.^ If I mutt die, 

''Afiepls, anbctit'iis. t Leprous eiuptionft 

I OIJ r-'C. .4 



3S BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

1 will encounter darkness as a bride, 
And hug it in mine arms. 

THE HYPOCRISY OF ANGELO. 

There my father's grave 
Did utter forth a voice! Yes, thou must die: 
Thou art too noble to conserve a life 
In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy,- 
Whose settled visage and deliberate word 
Nips youth i'the head, and follies doth enmcw,* 
As falcon doth the fowl, — is 3^et a devil; 
His filth within being cast, he w^ould appear 
A pond as deep as hell. 

THE TERRORS OF DEATH. 

Death is a fearful thing. 

Isab. And shamed life a hateful. 

Claud. Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; 
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot: 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
in thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice; 
To be imprison'd in the viewlessf winds. 
And blown with restless violence about 
The pendent world; or to be worse than worst 
Of those, that lawless and incertain thoughts 
Imagine hoAvling! — 'tis too horrible! 
The w^eariest and most loathed worldly life, 
That age, ach, penury, and imprisonment 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise , 

To Avhat w^e fear of death. 

VIRTUE AND GOODNESS. 

Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. 

A BAWD. 

The evil that thou causest to be done. 
That is thy means to live: Do thou but think 
\Vhat 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back. 
From such a filthy vice: say to thyself,— 

^ Shut lip. t Ir-visiblo. 



% 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 3d 

From their abominable and beastly touches 

I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. 

Canst thou believe thy living is a life, 

So stinkingly depending? Go, mend, go, mend, 

ACT IV. 

SONG. 

Take, oh take, those lips away. 
That so sweetly were forsworn; 

And those eyes, the break of day, 
Lights that do mislead the morn: 

But my kisses bring again, 

Seals of love, but seal'd in vain. 

Hide, oh hide, those hills of snow. 
Which thy frozen bosom bears. 

On whose tops the pinks that grow 
Are of those that April wears: 

But my poor heart first set free. 

Bound in those icy chains by thee. 

GREATNESS SUBJECT TO CENSURE. 

O place and greatness, millions of false eyes, 
Are ?ituck upon thee! volumes of report 
Run with these false and most contrarious quests 
Upon thy doings! thousand 'scapes* of wit 
Make thee the father of their idle dream. 
And rack thee in their fancies. 

SOUND SLEEP. 

As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltless labour 
When it lies starklyf in the traveller's bones. 

ACT V. 

CHARACTER OF AN ARCH HYPOCRITE. 

prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st 
There is another comfort than this world, 
That thou neglect me not, Avith that opinion 
That I am touch'd with madness: make not impos- 
sible 
That which but seems unlike: 'Tis not impossible 
* Sallies. t Stifly. 



» 



40 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, 
May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute, 
As Angelo; even so may Angelo, 
In all his dressings,* characts, titles, forms, 
Be an arch-villain: believe it, rojal prince, 
If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more, 
Had I more name for badness. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 
ACT I. 

MIRTH AND MELANCHOLY. 

NOW, by two-headed Janus, 
Nature hath fram'd strange fellows in her time: 
Some that will evermore peep through their eyes, 
And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper; 
And other of such vinegar aspect. 
That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, 
Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 

WORLDLINESS. 

You have too much respect upon the world: 
They lose it, that do buy it with much care. 

THE "world's true VALUE. 

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; 
A stage where every man must play a part. 

CHEERFULNESS. 

Let me play the Fool : 
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come: 
And let my liver rather heat with wine. 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster.'' 
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish? 

* Habits and characters of office 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 41 



AFFECTED GRAVITY. 



I tell thee what, Antonio, — 
J love thee, and it is my love that speaks; — 
There are a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; 
And do a wilful stillness* entertain. 
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; 
As who should say, / am Sir Oracle, 
And, iDhen I ope my lips, let no dog bark! 
O, my Antonio, I do know of these. 
That therefore only are reputed wise, 
For saying nothing. 

LOQ,UACITY. 

Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more 
than any man in all Venice: his reasons are as two 
grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff; you 
shall seek all day ere you find them; and, when you 
have them, they are not worth the search. 

MEDIOCRITY. 

For aught I see, they are as sick, that surfeit witlj 
too much, as they that starve with nothing: It is no 
mean happiness, therefore, to be seated in the mean; 
superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but compe- 
tency lives longer. 

SPECULATION MORE EASY THAN PRACTICE. 

If to do wore as easy as to know what were good 
lo do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's 
cottages, princes' palaces. It is a good divine that 
follows his own instructions: I can easier teach 
twenty what were good to be done, than be one of 
the twenty to Ibllow mine own teaching. The brain 
may devise laws for the blood; but a liot temper 
leaps over a cold decree; such a hare is madness the 
youth, to skip o'er the meshes of good counsel the 
cripple. 

* Obstinate silence. 



42 BEAUTIES OF SKAKSPEARE. 

THE JEW'S MALICF.. 

Bass. This is signior Antonio. 

iS%. [Jlside.] How like a faw-ning publican he 
looks ! 
I hate him, for he is a Christian : 
But more, for that, in low simplicity, 
He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
I will x?.ed fat the ancient grudge 1 bear him 
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails, 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
Which he calls interest: Cursed be my 'tribe, 
If I forgive him! 

HYPOCRISY. 

Mark you this, Bassanio, 
The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul, producing holy Avitness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart; 
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! 

THE JEW'S EXPOSTULATION. 

Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, 
In the RiaUo you have rated me 
About my monies, and my usances:* 
Still have 1 borne it \vith''a patient shrug; 
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe: 
You call Kie — misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, 
And all for use of that which is m.ine own. 
Well then it now appeavf:, you need my help: 
Go to then; you come to me, and you say, 
Shylock, we would have monies: You say so, 
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard. 
And foot me, as you spurn a si ranger eur 
Over your threshold: Monies is your suit. 
What should I say to you.'' Should ( not say, 

* Interest. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 43 

Hath a dog mo?iey7 is il possible, 
A cur can lend three thousand ducats 7 or 
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, 

Say this, 

Fair sir, rjou spit on me on Wednesday last; 
You spurned me such'a day: another time 
You caWd me — dog; and for these courtesies 
IHl lend you thus much monies. 

ACT II. 

GRAVITY ASSUMED. 

Signioij Bassanio, hear ms : 
If I do not put on a sober habit, 
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then, 
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look demurely; 
Nay more, wliile grace is saying, hood mine eyes 
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen; 
Use all the observance of civility, , 

Like one well studied in a sad ostent* «. 

To please his grandam, never trust me more. 

THE JSEW'S COMMAJTDS, TO HIS DAUGHTER. 

Lock up my doors; and when you hear the drum, 
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife, 
Clamber not you up to the casements then. 
Nor thrust your head into the public street. 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish- d faces: 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements, . 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. 

POSSESSION MORE LANGUID THAN EXPECTATION. 

O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
To seal love's bonds new made, than they are wont, 
To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! 
Who riseth from a feast. 
With what keen appetite that he sits down? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again 
His tedious measures with the unbated fire 
* Show of stviid and serious demeanour. 



44 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That he did pace them first? All things that are, 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
How like a yonker, or a prodigal, 
The scarfed* bark puts from her native bay, 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! 
How like the prodigal doth she return, 
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails. 
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! 

PORTIA'S SUITORS. 

From the four corners of the earth they come, 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint. 
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds 
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now. 
For princes to come view fair Portia : 
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
To stop the foreign spiritsj but they come, 
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. 

'^^ THE PARTING OF FRIENDS. 

I saw Bassanio and Antonio part: 
Bassanio told him he would make some speed 
Of his return ; he answer'd — Do not so, 
Slubber noff business for my sake, Bassanio, 
But stay the very riping of the time; 
And for the Jew''s bond, which he hath ofmCj 
Let it not enter in your mind of love: 
Be merry; and employ your chief est thoughts 
To courtship, and such fair ostents+ of love 
Jls shall conveniently become you there: 
And even there, his eye being big with tears, 
Turning his face, he put his hand behind him, 
And with affection wondrous sensible 
He wrung Bassanio's hand and so they parted. 

HONOUR TO BE CONFERRED ON MERIT ONLY. 

For who shall go about 
To cozen fortune, and be honourable 
* Decorated with flags, 
t To slubber is to do a thing carelessly. 
} Shows, tokens. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 45 

Without the stamp of merit! Let none presume 
To wear an undeserved dignity. 
0, that estates, degrees, and offices. 
Were not deriv'd corruptly ! and that clear honour 
Were purchas'd by the merit of the wearer! 
How many then should cover, that stand bare.-* 
How many be commanded, that command? 
How much low peasantry would then be glean'd 
From the true seed of honour.'' and how much honour 
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
To be new varnish'd.'' 

LOVE MESSENGER COMPARED TO AN APRIL DAT. 

I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love: 
A day in April never came so sweet, 
To show how costly summer was at hand, 
As this fore-spurrer comes before his lord. 

ACT ni. 

THE JEW'S REVENGE. 

If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. 
He hath disgraced me, and hindered me of half a 
million; laughed at my losses, mocked at my gains, 
scorned my nation, thwarted my bargains, cooled my 
friends, heated mine enemies; and what's his rea- 
son.'' I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes.'' hath not a 
Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, 
passions. -* fed with the same food, hurt with the 
same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed 
by the same means, warmed and, cooled by the same 
winter and summer, as a Christian is.'' If you prick 
us, do we not bleed .'' if you tickle us, do we not 
laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you 
wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you 
in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a jew 
wrong a christian, what is his humility? revenge: 
if a Christian Avrong a Jew, what should his suffer- 
ance be by Christian example? why, revenge. The 
villany, you teach me, I will execute : and it shall 
go hard, but I will better the instruction. 



46 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

MUSIC. 

Let music sound, while he doth make his choice; 

Then, if he lose, he makes a svvan-likc end, 

Fading in music: that the comparison 

May stand more proper, my eye shall be the stream, 

And wat'ry death-bed for him: He may win; 

And what is music then ? then music is 

Even as the flourish when true subjects bow 

To a new-crowned monarch: such it is. 

As are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 

That creep into the dreaming bridegroom's ear, 

And summon him to marriage. Now he goes. 

With no less presence,* but with much more love, 

Than young Alcides, when he did redeem 

The virgin tribute paid by howling Troy 

To the sea-monster: I stand for sacrifice,. 

The rest aloof are the Dardanian wives. 

With bleared visages, come forth to view 

The issue of the exploit. 

THE DECEIT OF ORNAMENT OR APPEARANCES. 

The world is still deceived with ornament; 
In law, what plea so tainted and corrupt. 
But, being season'd with a graciousj voice, 
Obscures the show of evil? In religion. 
What damned error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text. 
Hiding the grossness with fair ornament ? 
There is no vice so simple, but assumes 
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts. 
How many cowards, whose hearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars; 
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as railk.'' 
And these assume but valour's excrement, 
To render them redoubted. Look on beauty. 
And you shall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight; 
Which therein works a miracle in nature, 
Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
So are those crisped]: snalcy golden locks, 

* Dignity of main. | Winning favour. t Curled 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 47 

Which make such wanton gambols with the wind, 

Ui)on supposed fairness, often known 

To be the dowry of a second head, 

The skull that bred them, in the sepulchre. 

Thus ornament is but the guiled* shore 

To a most dangerous sea; the beauteous scarf 

Veihng an Indian beauty : in a word, 

The seeming truth which cunning times put on 

To entrap the wisest. 

PORTIA'S PICTURE. 

What find I here ? [ Opening the leaden casket 
Fair Portia's counterfeit?! vVhat demi-god 
Hath come so near creation? Move these eyes? 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine. 
Seem they in motion ? Here are sever'd lips, 
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends Here in her hairs 
The painter plays the spider; and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men. 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs: But her eyes, — 
How could he see to do them? having made one, 
Methinks, it should have power to steal both his, 
And leave itself unfurnish'd. i 

SUCCESSFUL LOVER COMPARED TO A C0NQ,UER0R. 

Like one of two contending in a prize. 
That thinks he hath done well in people's eyes. 
Hearing applause and universal shout, 
Giddy in spirit, still gazing, in a doubt 
Whether those peals of praise be his or not; 
So thrice fair lady, stand I. 

HIS THOUGHTS TO THE INARTICULATE JOYS OF A 
CROWD. 

There is such confusion in my powers, 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved princcj there doth appear 
Among the buzzing pleased multitude: 
Where every something, being blent+ together, 

* Treacherous. t Likeness, portrait. t Blended, 



48 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE, 

Turns to a wild of nothing save of joy, 
Express'dj and not express'd. 

IMPLACABLE REVENGE. 

Shy. I'll have my.bond; I will not hear thee speak: 
ril have my bond; and therefore speak no nnore, 
I'll not be made a soft and duU-ey'd fool, 
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To Christian intercessors. 

THE BOASTING OF YOUTH. 

I'll hold thee any wager. 
When we are both accouter'd like young men, 
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, 
And wear my dagger with the braver grace; 
And speak, between the change of man and boy, 
With a reed voice; and turn two mincing steps 
Into a manly stride; and speak of frays. 
Like a fine "bragging youth: and tell quaint lies, 
How honourable ladies sought my love, 
Which I denying, they fell sick and died; 
I could not do with all; — then I'll repent, 
And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd them: 
And twenty of these puny lies I'll tell, 
That men shall swear, I have discontinued school 
Above a tv/eivemonth. 

AFFECTATION IN WORDS. 

O dear discretion, how his words are suited! 
The fool hath planted in his memory 
An army of good words: and I do know 
As many fools, that stand in better place 
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. 

THE JEW'S REASON FOR REVENGE. 

You'll ask me why I rather chose to have 
A weight of carrion llesh, than to receive 
Three thousand ducats: I'll not answer that: 
But, say, it is my humour:* Is it answer'd.^ 
What if my house be troubled with a rat, 

* Particular faucv. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 49 

And I be pleased to ojive ten thousand ducats 

To have it baned? What, are you answer'd yet? 

Some men there are, love not a gaping pig ; 

Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat ; 

And others, when the bag-pipe sings i'the nose,' 

Cannot contain their urine: For affection,* 

Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 

Of what it likes, or loaths: Now, for your answer: 

As there is no firm reason to be render'd, 

Why he cannot abide a gapingf pig; 

Why he, a harndess necessary cat; 

Why he, a swollen bag-pipe; hut of force 

Must yield to such inevitable shame, 

As to offend, himself being offended; 

So can I give no reason, nor I will not. 

More tlian a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing 

I bear Antonio, that I follow thus 

A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? 

MERCY. 

The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heav^en 
Upon the place beneath: it is twice bless'd; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown: 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 
But mercy is above this sceptre'd sway. 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings. 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's^ 
When mercy seasons justice. 

FORTUNE. 

For herein fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom: it is still her use, 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth. 
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brovr, 
An age of poverty. 

* Prejudice. 5 t Crying, 



50 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

. ACT V. 

MOONLIGHT. 

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, 
Become the toucht y of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid w'vh patines* of bright gold: 
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behbld'st, 
But in his motion like an angel sings. 
Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubim: 
vSuch harmony is in immortal souls; 
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 

MUSIC. 

1 am never merry, when I hear sweet music. 

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentive: 
For do but note a wild and Avanton herd. 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts. 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud. 
Which is the hot condition of their blood; 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound. 
Or any air of music touch their ears. 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze. 
By the sweet power of music: Therefore the poet 
D id feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and flqodsj 
Since not so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
But music for the time doth change his nature: 
The man that hath no music in himself. 
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
And his affections dark as Erebus: 
Let no such man be trusted. 

A GOOD DEED COMPARED. 

How far that little candle throws his beams! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty ^vorld. 

* A small flat dish, used in the administration of the 
Eucharist. 



A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 51 

KOTHI>"G GOOD OUT OF SEASOJI. 

The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, 
When neither is attended; and, I think, 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day, 
When every goose is cackling, would be thought 
No better a musician than the wren. 
How many things by season seasoned are 
To their right praise, and true perfection ! — 
Peace, lioa! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
And would not be awak'd ! 

MOONLIGHT KIGHT. 

This night, methinks, is but the"^ daylight sick, 
li looks a little paler; 'tis a day, 
6uch as the day is when the sun is hid. 

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 
ACT I. 

A father's AUTHORITY, 

TO you your father should be as a god; 
One that compos'd your beauties; yea, and one 
To whom you are but as a form in wax. 
By him imprinted, and within his power 
To leave the figure, or disfigure it. 

A RECLUSE LIFE. 

Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires, 
Know of your youth, examine w^ell your blood, 
Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice. 
You can endure the livery of a nun; 
For aye* to be in shady cloister mew'd, 
To live a barren sister all your life. 
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon. 
Thrice blessed they, that master so their blood, 
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage: 
JBut earthlier happy is the rose distill'd, 

* Ever. 



52 BEA.UTIES OF SHAKSPEARE, 

Than that, which, withering on the vi tgin thorn, 
Grows, lives, and dies, in single blessedness, 

TRUE LOVE EVER CROSSED. 

For aught that ever I could read, 
Could ever hear by tale or history, 
The course of true love never did run smooth: 
Bat, either it was different in blood: 
Or else misgratTed, in respect of years; 
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends; 
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice. 
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; 
P^laking it momentany* as a sound, 
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; 
Brief as the lightning in the coUiedt night, 
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, 
And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold! 
The jaws of darkness do devour it up: 
So quick bright things come to confusion. 

ASSIGNATION. 

1 swear to thee, by cupid's strongest bow; 
By his best arrow with the golden head; 
By the simplicity of Venus' doves; 
By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves: 
And bv that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen, 
When'the false Trojan under sail was seen; 
By all the vows that ever men have broke. 
In number more than ever woman spoke; — 
In that same place thou hast appointed me. 
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 

THE MOON. 

When Phoibe doth behold 
Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, 
Decking with liquid pearls the bladed grass. 

LOVE. 

Things base and vile, holding no quantitj^ 
Love can transpose to form and dignity. 
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind: 
* Momentary. t Black. 



A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 58 

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind: 
Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; 
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste: 
And therefore is love said to be a child, 
Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. 
As waggish boys in game* themselves forswear, 
So the boy love is perjur'd every where. 

PUCK. 

t am that merry wanderer of the night, 
J jpst to Oberon, and make him smile. 
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, 
Neighing in likeness of a silly foal: 
And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl. 
In very likeness of a roasted crab;t 
And, when she drink, against her lips I bob. 
And" on her wither'd dew-lap pour the ale. 
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale. 
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; 
Then slip I from her bum, down topples she. 
And tailor cries, and falls into a cough; 
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and lotte; 
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear 
A merrier hour was never wasted there. 

5,\JRY JEALOUSY, AND THE EFFECTS OF IT. 

These are the forgeries of jealousy : 
And never, since the middle summer's spring, 
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead. 
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook. 
Or on the beachy margent of the sea. 
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. 
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. 
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, 
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea 
Contagious fogs; which falling in the land, 
Have every pelting+ river made so proud. 
That thev have overborne their continents;§ 
The ox liath therefore stretch'd his yoke in vain, 
The ploughman lost his sweat; and the green corn 

* Spcrt. t Wild apple. t Petty. 

§ Banks wliich contain them. 



54 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Hath rotted, ere his youth attained a beard 

The fold stands empty in the drowned field, 

And crows are fatted with the miirrian flock; 

The nine men's morris* is fill'd up with mud; 

And the quaint mazes in the wanton green. 

For lack of tread, are undistinguisliable; 

The human mortals want their winter here; 

No night is now with hymn or carol bless'd : — 

Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, 

Paie in her anger, washes all the air, 

That rheumatic diseases do abound: 

And through this distemperature, we see 

The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts 

Fall iu the fresh lap of the crimson rose; 

And on old Hyems' chin, an icy crown. 

An odorous chaplet of SAveet summer buds 

Is, as in a mockery, set: The spring, the summer. 

The childingt autumn, angry winter, change 

Their wonted liveries; and the mazed '\vorld, 

hy their increas'ij^ now knows not whi'*h is which. 

LOVE IN IDLENESS. 

Thou remember'st 
Since once I sat upon a promontory, 
And Jieard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, 
Uttering such a dulcet and harmonious breath, 
That the rude sea grew civil at her song; 
And certain stars shot madly from their rpheres, 
To hear the sea-maid's music. 
That very time I saw, (but thou could'st not,) 
Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took 
At a fair vestal, throned by the west; 
And loos'd his love-shaft smartly from his bow. 
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts; 
But I might tee young Cupid's fiery shaft 
Quench'd in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon; 
And the imjierial votress passed on, 
In maiden meditation fancy-free. § 

* A game played by boys. 

t Autumn producing flowers unseasonably. 

t Produce. § Exempt from love.' 



A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 55 

Yet mark'd I where the bolt of cupid fell: 

It fell upon a little western flower, — 

Before, milk-white; now purple with love's wound,— 

And maidens call it, love-in-idleness. 

A FAIRY BANK. 

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
Where ox-lips* and the nodding violet grows; 
Quite over-canopied with lushf woodbine, 
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine: 
There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, 
Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight. 



ACT III. 

FAIRY COURTESIES. 

Be kind ami courteous to this gentleman; 
iHop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; 
Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,+ 
W'dh purple grapes, green fig?, and mulberries; 
-The honey bags steal from the humble-bees, 
And, for night t.ipers crop their waxen thighs, 
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, 
"To have my love to bed, and to arise; 
Ant! pluck 'the wings froiii painted butterflies, 
To fan the moon-b.^ams from his sleeping eyes: 
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 

FEMALE FRIENDSHIP. 

Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, 
The Fisters' vov.>-, the hours that we have spent, 
When we have chid the hasty-footed time 
For parting us, — O, and is all forgot? 
All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence. 
We, Hermia', like tv,o artificial§ gods, 
Have with our ncelds|| created both one flower, 
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 
Both warbling of one song, both in one key; 
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 

* The greater cowslip, f Vigorous, t Goosberries. 
§ Ingenious. II Needles. 



56 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 

Like to a double cl&erry, seeming parted; 

But }et a union in partition, 

Two lovely berries moulded on one stem: 

So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; 

Two of the first, like coats in heraldry. 

Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. 

And will you rent our ancient love asunder, 

'To join Avith men in scorning your poor friend? . 

Jt is not friendly, 'Tis not maidenly : 

Our sex, as w^ell as I, may chide you for it; 

Though I alone do feel the injury. 

DAYBREAK. 

Niglit's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, 
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; 
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and 

there. 
Troop home to church-yards. 



ACT.iy. 

DEW IN FLOWERS. 

And that same dew, which sometime on the buds 
Was vv^ont to swell like round and orient pearls, 
Stood now within the pretty flow'rets' eyes. 
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail. 

HUNTING. 

We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, 
And mark the musical confusion 
Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 

Hij). I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once. 
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear 
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear 
Such gallant chiding;* for, besides the groves, 
The skies, the fountains, every region near 
Seem'd all one mutual cry : I never heard 
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder, 

* Sound. 



A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM. 6T 

HOUNDS. 

My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, 
So flew'd,* so sanded; and their heads are hung 
With ears that sweep away the morning dew; 
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls. 
Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, 
Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn. 

ACT V. 

THE POWER OF IMAGINATION. 

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, 
Are of imagination all compact rf 
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold; 
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, 
Sees Helen's beauty in ft brow of Egjpt: 
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to 

heav'n; 
And, as imagination bodies forth 
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation, and a name. 

SIMPLICITY AND DUTY. . 

For never any thing can be amiss, 
When simpleness and duty tender it. 

Hip. I love not to see v^'retchedness o'ercharg'd, 
And duty in his service perishing. 

MODEST DUTY ALWAYS ACCEPTABLE. 

Where I have come, great clerks have purposed 
To greet me with premeditated welcomes; 
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale, 
Make periods in the midst of sentences, 
Throttle their practis'd accent in their fears, 
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off. 
Not paying me a welcome: Trust me, sweet. 

* The flews are the laree chaps of a hound. 
t Are made of mere imagination. 



5S BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Out of this silence, yet, I pick'd a welcome; 
And in the modesty of fearful duty 
I read as much, as from the rattling tongue 
Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 

TIME. 

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. 

NIGHT. 

Now the hungry lion roars. 

And the wolf behowls the moon; 
AYhilst the heavy ploughman snores, 

AJl with weary task fordone.* 
Now the wasted brands do glow, 

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud, 
Puts the wretch that lies in wo, • 

In remenibrance of a shr»ud. 
Now it is the time of night, 

That the graves, all gaping wide, 
Every one lets forth his sprite. 

In the church-way paths to glide. 

MUCII ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



ACT I. 

PEACE INSPIRES LOVE. 

BUT now I am return'd, and that Avar-thoughts 
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
Come thronging soft and delicate desires, 
All prompting me how fair young Hero is. 

D. Pedro. Thou wilt be like a lover presently, 
A.nd tire the liearer with a book of Avords: 
If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it; 
And I Avill break with her, and with her father, 
And thou shall have her: Was't not to this end, 
That thou bcgan'st to tAvist so fine a story? 

Claud. HoAv sweetly do you minister to love, 

* Overcoine. 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 59 

That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. 

J). Pedro. What need the bridge much broader 
than the flood ? 
The fairest grant is the necessity: 
Look, wdiat will servo, is fit: 'tis once,* thou lov'st; 
And I will lit thee with the remedy. 
I know we shall have revelling to-night; 
I will assume thy part in some disguise, 
And tell fair Hero 1 am Claudio; 
And in her bosom I'j^l unclasp my heart. 

AOfT II. 

FRIENDSHIP IN LOVE. 

Friendship is constant in all other things, 
Save in the office and affairs of love: 
Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tonguesj 
Let every eye negotiate for itself, 
And trust no agent: for beauty is a ivitch, 
x^gainst whose charms faith melteth into blood. t 

MERIT ALWAYS MODEST. 

It is the witness still of excellency. 
To put a strange face on his own perfection. 

BENEDICT THE BACHELOR'S RECANTATION. 

This can be no trick: The conference was sadly 
s borne.:}: — They have the truth of this from Hero. 
They seem to pity the lady; it seems, her affections 
have their full bent. Love me! why it must be re- 
quited. - I hear how^ I am censured: they say, I will 
bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love come 
from her; they say too, that she Avill rather die than 
give any sign of affection. — I did never think to 
marry: — I must not seem proud: — Happy are they 
that hear their detractions, and can put them to 
mending. They say, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I 
can bear them witness: and virtuous; — 'tis so, I 

* Once for all. t Passion. 

t Seriously carried on. 



60 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

cannot reprove it; and wise, but for loving me: — By 
my troth, it is no addition to her wit; — nor no great < 
argament of her foil}", for I will be horribly in love 
v/ith her. I may chance have some odd quirks and 
remnants of wit broken on me, because I have railed 
so long against marriac^e: — But doth not the appetite 
alter? A man loves tlie meat in his )^outh, that he 
cannot endure in his age: Shall quips, and senten- 
ces, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe a man 
from the career of his huaiour? No: the world must 
be peopled. When I said, I would die a bachelor, 
I did not think I should live till I were married.—^ 
Here comes Beatrice: by this day, she's a fair lady. 
I do spy some marks of love in her. 

ACT III. 

FAVOURITES COMPARED TO HONEYSUCKLES 

Bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
Where honeysuckles, ripen'd b}' the sun, 
Forbid the sun to enter; — like favourites, 
Made proud by princes, that advance their pride,- 
Against that power that bred it. 

A SCORNFUL AND SATIRICAL BEAUTY. 

Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
Misprising* what ihey look on; and her wit 
Values itself so highly, that to her 
All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, 
Nor take no shape nor project of affection, 
She is so seif-endeared. 
I never yet saw man, 

How wise, how noble, young, how rarely featur'd. 
But she would spell him backward: if fair-faced, 
She'd sv.-car the gentleman should be her sister: 
If black, wh}'^, nature, dravring of an antic, 
Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed: 
If low, an agate very vilely cut; 
If speaking, why, a vane blown with all wind: 
If silent, why a block moved with none. 
So turns she every man the wrong side outj 

* Undervaluing 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 61 

And never gives to truth and virtue, that 
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 



ACT IV. 

DISSIMULATION. 

O, what authority and show of truth 
Can cunning sin cover itself withal! 
Comes not that blood as modest evidence, 
To witness simple virtue? Would you not swear, 
All you that see her, that she were a maid, 
By these exterior shows? But she is none: 
She knows the heat of a luxurious* bed: 
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 

A FATHER LAMENTING HIS DAUGHTER'S INFAMY, 

Griev'd I, I had but one? 
Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ?t 
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? 
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? 
Why had I not, with charitable hand, 
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates; 
Who smirched;}: thus, and mired with infamy, 
T might have said. No part of it is mine, 
This shame derives itself from unknown loinsl 
But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I prais'd, 
And mine that I was proud on; mine so much, 
That I myself was to myself not mine. 
Valuing of her; why, she — 0, she is fallen 
Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again. 

INNOCENCE DISCOVERED BY THE COUNTENANCE. 

I have mark'd 
A thousand blushing apparitions start 
Into her face; a thousand innocent shames 
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes; 
And in her eye there hath appear'd a fire, 
To burn the errors that these princes hold 
Against her maiden truth. 

* Lascivious. f Disposition of things. X Sullied. 
6 



62 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

RESOLUTION. 

I know not- If they speak but truth of her, 
These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her honour, 
The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, 
Nor age so eat up my invention, 
Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, 
Nor my bad life reft me so niuch of friends, 
But they shall find, awak'd in such a kind, 
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, 
Ability in means, and choice of friends. 
To quit me of them thoroughly. 

THE DESIRE OF BELOVED OBJECTS HEIGHTENED 3T 
THEIR LOSS. 

For it SO falls out. 
That what we have we prize not to the worth. 
Whiles* we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost. 
Why, then we rackf the value; then we find 
The virtue, that possession would not show us 
Whiles it was ours: — So will it fare wath Cl?udio: 
When he shall hear she died uponj his words. 
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
Into his study of imagination; 
And every lovely organ of her life 
Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit. 
More moving-delicate, and full of life. 
Into the eye and prospect of his soul. 
Than when she liv'd indeed. 

TALKING BRAGGARTS. 

But manhood is melted into courtesies,§ valour in- 
to compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, 
and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules, 
that only tells a lie, and swears it. 

ACT V. 

COUNSEL OF NO WEIGHT IN MISERY. 

I pray thee, cease thy counsel, 
Which falls into mine ears as profitless 

* While. t Over-rate. t^v. § Ceremony 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 68 

As water in a seive; give not me counsel j 

Nor let no comforter delight mine ear, 

But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. 

Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child. 

Whose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine, 

And bid him speak of patience; 

Measure his w'o the length and breadth of mine. 

And let it answer every strain for strain; 

As thus for thus, and such a grief for such. 

In every lineament, branch, shape and form: 

If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard; 

Cry — sorrow, wag! and hem, when he should groan; 

Patch grief with proverbs; make misfortune drunk 

With candle-wasters; bring him yet to me. 

And I of him will gather patience. 

But there is no such man : For, brother, men 

Can counsel, and speak comfort to that grief 

Which they themselves not feel; but, tasting it, 

Their counsel turns to passion, which before 

Would give preceptial medicine to rage, 

Fetter strong madness in a silken thread. 

Charm ach with air, and agony with words: 

No, no; 'tis all men's office to speak patience 

To those that wring under the load of sorrow: 

But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, 

To be so moral, when he shall endure 

The like himself: therefore give me no counsel. 

My griefs cry louder than advertisement. 

SATIRE ON THE STOIC PHILOSOPHERS. 

I pray thee, peace: I will be flesh and blood; ^ 
For there was never yet philosopher, * 

That could endure the tooth-ach patiently; 
However they have writ the style of gods 
And made a pish at chance and sufferance. 

TALKING BRAGGARTS. 

Hold you content: What man ! I know them, yea, 
And what they weigh, even to the utmost scruple- 
Scrambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ring boys, 
That lie, and cog., and flout, deprave and slander, 
Go antickly, and show outward hideousness. 



€4 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And speak of half a dozen dangerous words, 
How they might hurt their enemies, if they durst. 
And this is all. 

VILLAIN TO BE NOTED. 

Which is the villain ? Let me see his eyes; 
That when I note another man like him, 
I may avoid him. 

DAYBREAir. 

The wolves have preyed : and look, the gentle day. 
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about 
Dapples the drowsy east wdth spots of gray. 

TAMING OF THE SHREW. 



INDUCTION. 

HOUNDS. 

THY hounds shall make the welkin answer them, 
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 

PAINTING. 

Dost thou love pictures? we will fetch thee straight 
Adonis painted by a running brook; 
And Cytherea all in sedges hid; 
Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, 
Even as the waving sedges play with wind. 



ACT I. 

woman's tongue. 
Think you, a little din can daunt mine ears.^ 
Have I not in my time heard lions roar? 
Have I not heard the sea, puff'd up with winds, 
Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat? 
Have I not heard great ordnance in the field 
And heav'ns artillery thunder in the skies? 
Have I not in a pitched battle heard 
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpet's clang.^ 



TAMING OF THE SHREW. 65 

And do you tell me of a woman's tongue, 
That ^ives not half so great a blow to the ear. 
As will a chesnut in a farmer's fire. 



ACT III. 

A MAD WEDDING. 

When the priest, 
Should ask — if Katharine should be his wife, 
Jly^ by gogs-woims, quoth he; and swore so loud, 
That, all aniaz'd, the priest let fall the book: 
And, as he stoop'd ai^ain to take it up, 
The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a cuff, 
That down fell priest and book, and book and priestj 
Noiv take them up, quoth he, if any list. 

Tra. What said the wench, when he arose again.'' 
Crre Trembled and shook; for v>hy, he stamp'd, 
and swore. 
As if the vicar meant to cozen him. 
But after many ceremonies done. 
He calls for wine: ^'2 health, quoth he, as if 
He had been aboard carousing to his mates 
After a storm: — (luafi'd ofi^ the muscadel,* 
And threw the sops all in the sexton's face ! 
Having no other reason, — 
^ But that his beard grew Ihin and hungerly, . 
And scem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. 
This done, he took the bride about the neck; 
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack, 
That, at the parting, all the church did echo. 



ACT IV. 

THE MIND ALONE VALUABLE, 

For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich; 
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, 
So honour peerethf in the meanest habit. 
What, is the jay more precious than the lark, 

* It was the custom for the coinpan}' present to drink 
wine imnicdialcly ai\cr the miarriagc ccroiuoiiy. 
t Appcarclh. 



66 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Because his feathers are more beautiful? 
Or is the adder better than the eel, 
Because his painted skin contents the eye? 
O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse 
For this poof furniture and mean array. 



ACT V. 

THE wife's duty TO HER HUSBAND. 

Fie, fie! unknit that threat'ning unkind brow; 
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 
To wound thy lord, th}^ king, thy governor; 
It blots thy beauty, as "frosts bite the meads; 
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds, 
And in no sense is meet, or amiable. 
A woman moved, is like a fountain troubled, 
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; 
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. 
Thy husband is thy lord, thv life, thy keeper, 
Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, 
And for thy maintenance: •commits his body 
To painful labour, both by sea and land; 
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, 
While thou liest warm a( home, secure and safe, 
And craves no other tribute at thy hands, 
But love, fair looks, and true obedience; — 
Too little payment for so great a debt. 
Such duty as the subject owes the prince, 
Even such, a woman oweth to her husband: 
And, when she's frovvard, peevish, sullen, sour, 
And not obedient to his honest will, 
What is she, but a foul contending rebel. 
And graceless traitor to her loving lord? — 
I am asham'd, that women are so simple 
To offer war, v/here they should kneel for peace; 
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway. 
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 
Why are our bodies soft, and vreak, and smooth, 
Unapt to toil and troulde in the world; 



TEMPEST. 67 

But that our soft conditions* and our hearts. 
Should well agree with our external parts? 



TEMPEST. 



ACT I. 



AN USUnPI^G SUBSTITUTE COMPARED TO JOY, 

THAT now he was 
The ivy, which had hid my princely trunk, 
And suck'd my verdure out on't. 

Ariel's description of managing the storm. 

I boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, 
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, 
I flam'd amazement: Sometimes, I'd divide. 
And burn in many places; on the top-mast, 
The yards, and bowsprit, vrould I ilame distinctly, 
Then meet, and join: Jove's lightnings, the precur- 
sors 
O'-the dreadful thunder claps, more momentary 
And sight-out-running were not: The fire, and cracks 
Of sulphii'rcus roaring, the most mighty Neptune 
Seem'd to besiege, and make his bold v; a ves tremble, 

Yea, his dread trident shake.-— 

— Not a soul, 

But felt a fever of the ir.ad, and play'd 
Some tricks of desperation: All, but mariners, 
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and quit the vessel, 
Then all a-iire with me: the king's son. Ferdinand, 
With hair un-starting (then like reeds, not hair,) 
Was the first man that leap'd; cried, Hell is empty, 
^nd all the devils are here, 

PRCSPERO PEPROVING ARIEL. 

Thou dosl; and think'st 
It much, to tread, the ooze of the salt (\ee.vi 
To run upon the shaip wind of the north: 
To do me business in the veins o' the earth, 
When it is bak'd with frost. 

* Gentle tempers. ^ 



68 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

CALIBAN'S CURSES. 

Cal As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd 
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen, 
Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, 
And blister you all o'er ! 

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have 
cramps, 
Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins* 
Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, 
All exercise on thee: thou shalt be pinch'd 
As thick as honeycombs, each pinch more stinging 
Than bees that made them. 

Cal. I must eat my dinner. 
This island's mine, by Sycorax my mother, 
Which thou taks't from me. When thou cam'st first. 
Thou strok'dst me, and mad'st much of me; would'st 

give me 
Water with berries in't; and teach me how 
To name the bigger light, and how the less, 
That burn by day and night: and then I lov'd thee, 
And show'd thee all the qualities of the isle. 
The fresh springs, brine pits, barren place, and 

fertile; 
Cursed be I that did so! — All the charms 
Of Svcorax, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! 
For J am all the subjects that you have, 
Which first was mine own king; and here you sty me 
In this hard rock, whiles you do keep from me 
The rest of the island. 
Caliban's exultation after prospero tells 

HIM HE sought TO VIOLATE THE HONOUR OF 

his child. 

O ho, O ho! — 'would it had been done! 
Thou didst prevent me; I had peopled else 
This isle with Calibans. 

music. 
Where should this music be t i' the air. or the cai tii, 
Jt sounds no more: — and sure, it waits upon 

* Faries. 



TEMPEST. 6D 

Some god of the island. Sitting on a bank, 
Weeping again the king my father's wreck. 
This music crept by me upon the waters; 
Allaying both their fury, and my passioa, 
With its sweet air. 

ARIEL'S SONG. 

Fall fathom five thy father hes; 

Of his bones are coral made; 
Those are pearls, that were his eyes: 

Nothing of him that doth fade, 
But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into something rich and strange. 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: 
Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong, bell. 

A lover's speech. 
My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, 
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's threats. 
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
Might I but through my prison once a day 
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth 
Let liberty make use of; space enough 
Have I in such a prison. 

ACT II. 

DESCRIPTION OF FERDINAND'S SWIMMING ASHORE. 

I saw him beat the surges under him, 
And ride upon their backs; he trod the water. 
Whose enmity he flung aside, and breasted 
The surge most svvoln that met him; his bold head 
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, and oar'd 
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis bow*d. 
As stooping to relieve him : I not doubt 
He came alive to land. 



Do not omit the heavy offer of it; 
It seldom visits sorrow; when it doth. 
It is a comforter. 



70 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



II 



A FINE APOSIOPESTS. 

They fell together all, as by consent; 
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What might. 
Worthy Sebastian? — 0, what might? — No more: — 
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face, 
What thou should'stbe: the occasion speaks thee: 

and 
My strong imagination sees a crown 
Dropping upon thy head. 

CALTBA]>;'S CURSES. 

All the infections that the sun sucks up 
From bogs, fens, flats, on Prospero fall, and make him 
By inch-meal a disease !' His spirits hear me, 
And yet I needs must curse.- But they'll nor pinch, 
Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the mire, 
Nor kad me, like a fire-brand, in the dark 
Out of my way, unless he bid them; but 
For every trifle are they set upon me: 
Sometimes like apes, that moe* and chatter at me, 
And after, bite me; then like hedge-hogs, which 
Lie tumbling in my bare-foot way, and mount 
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I 
All wound with adders, who, with cloven tongues. 
Do hiss me into madness: Lo! now! lo! 
Here comes a spirit of his; and to torment me, 
For bringing wood in slowly; I'll fall flat: 
Perchance he will not mind me. 

SATIRE ON ENGLISH CURIOSITY. 

Were I in England now (as once I was,) and had 
but this fish painted, not a holiday-fool there but 
would give a piece of silver; there would this mon- 
ster make a man; any strange beast there makes a 
man : when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame 
beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. 

CALIBAN'S PROMISES. 

I'll show thee the best springs; I'll pluck thee ber- 
ries; 
I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. 
A plague upon the tyrant that I serve ! 

* Make mouths. 



TEMPEST. 71 

I'll bear him no more sticks, but follow thee, 
Thou wond'rous man. 

I pr'ythee, let me bring thee where crabs grow; 
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts; 
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct thee how 
To snare the nimble marmozet; I'll bring thee 
To clust'ring filberds, and sometimes I'U^et thee 
Young sea-mells* from the rock. 

ACT III. 

FERDINAND. 

There be some sports are painful; but their labour 
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness 
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters 
Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be 
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious; but 
The mistress which I serve, quickens what's dead, 
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is 
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed; 
And he's composed of harshness. I must remove 
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up, 
Upon a sore injunction : My sweet mistress "^ 

Weeps when she sees me work: and says, such base- 
ness 
Had ne'er like executor. I forget: 
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours^ 
Most busy -less, when I do it. 

Enter Miranda; and Prospero at a distance. 

Mir a. Alas, now ! pray you, 
Work not so hard: I would the lightning had 
Burnt up those logs, that you are enjoined to pile 
Pray, sit it down, and rest you: when this burns, 
'Twill weep for having wearied you: My father 
Is hard at study; pray now, rest yourself; 
He's safe for thcoe three hours. 

Fer. O most dear mistress. 

The sun will set, before I shall discharge, 
What I must strive to do. 

Mira. If vou'll sit down, 

I'll bear your logs the while: Pray give inethat 
* Sea-gulls, 



72 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

I'll carry it to the pile. 

Fer. No, precious creature: 

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
Than you should such dishonour undergo, 
While" I sit lazy by. 

Mira. It would become me 

As well as it does you: and I should do it 
With mnch more ease; for my good will is to it, 
And yours against. 

Fro. Poor worm ! thou art infected; 

This visitation shows it. 

Mira. You look wearily. 

Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning with 
me, 
AVhen you are by at night. I do beseech you, 
(Chiefly, that I might set it in your prayers,) 
What is your name? 

Mira. Miranda: — O my father, 

I have broke your best* to say so ! 

Fer. Admir'd Miranda! 

Indeed the top of admiration; worth 
What's dearest to the world ! Full many a lady 
I have ey'd with best regard; and many a time 
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
}3rought my too diligent ear; for several virtues 
Have 1 lik'd several women; never any 
With so full soul, but some defect in her 
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she ow'd,t 
And put it to the foil: But you, O you, 
80 perfect and go ]>eerlpss, are created 
Of every creature's best. 

Mira.. I do not know 

One of my sex; no woman's face remember. 
Save, from my glass, mine own; nor have I seen 
iSlore that 1 may call men, than you, good friend 
And my dear father; how features are abroad, 
I am skill-less of; but, by my modesty, 
(The jewel in my dower,) i would not wish 
Any companion in the world but you; 
Nor can imagination form a shape, 

* Command. t Own'd. 



TEMPEST. 73 

Besides jourself, to like of: but I prattle 
Something too wildly, and my father's precepil 
Therein forget. 

Fer. I am, in my condition, 

A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king: 
(I would, not so!) and would no more endure 
This wooden slavery, than I would suffer 
The flesh-fly blow my mouth, — Hear my soul 

speak; — 
The very instant that T saw you, did 
My heart fly to your service; there resides, 
To make me slave to it; and, for your sake, 
Am I this patient log-man. 

Mir a. Do you love me .'' 

Fer. O heaven, earth, bear witness to this sound, 
And crown what I profess with kind event. 
If I speak true; if hollowly, invert 
What best is boded me, to mischief! I, 
Beyond all limit of what else* i' the world. 
Do love, prize, honour j-ou. 

Mir a, I am a fool, 

To weep at what I am glad of. 

Pro. Fair encounter 

Of too most rare affections! Heaven's rain grace 
On that which breeds betw^een them! 

Fer. Wherefore weep you.^ 

Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer 
What I desire to give; and much less take. 
What I shall die to want: But this is trifling; 
And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
The bigger bulk it ^hows. Hence, bashful cunning, 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence. 
I am your wife if you will marry me; 
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow 
Von may deny me: but I'll be your servant, 
Whether you will or no. 

Fer. My mistress, dearest, 

And I thus hunible ever. 

Mira. My husband then? 

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing 

7 * Whatsoever. 



74 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

A? bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. 

^yfira. And mine, with my heart in'l; And now 
farewell, 
Till half an hour hence. 

Fer. A thousand! thousand! 

A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. 

O, it is monstrous! monstrous! 
Methought, the billows spoke and told me of it; 
The win^ds did sing it to me; and the thunder. 
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd 
The name of Prosper. 

ACT IV. 

CONTINENCE BEFORE MARRIAGE. 

If (hou dost break her virgin knot before 
All sanctimonious ceremonies may 
^<Vith ful] and holy rite be minister'd, 
Mo swcpt aspersion* hhall the heavens let fall 
To vnake this contract grow; but barren hate. 
Sr^ur-ey'd disdain, and discord, shall bestrew 
The utiion of your bed with weeds so loathly 
I'hat yon shall hate it both. 

J A lover's PROTESTATION. 

As P hope 
Fov qiiiet days, fair icsue and long life, 
With such love as 'tis now; the murkiest den. 
The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion 
Our worser genius can, shall never melt 
Mine honour into lust; to take away 
The edge of that day's celebration. 
When ] !r-hali think, or Phoebus' steeds are fonnder'd, 
Or night kept chain'd below. 

PASSION TOO STRONG FOR VOWS. 

Look, thou be true; do not give dalliance 
Too much the rein; the strongest oaths are straw 
To the fire i' the blood: be more abstemious?. 
Or else, good night, your vow ! 

VANITY OF HUMAN KATT'IIL. 

The •? cnr actors, 

As 1 lOH-toid \o;i. were all spirit:. :\.: i 

* S-rinklinn-. 



TEMPEST. 75 

Are melted into air, into thin air: 
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
Tiie solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherits shall dissolve; 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,* 
Leave not a rackf behind: We are such stuff 
As dreams are made of, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. 

DRUNKARDS ENCHANTED BY ARIEL. 

I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; 
So full of valour, that they smote the air 
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground 
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending 
Towards their project; Then I beat my tabor, 
At which, like unback'd colts, they prickM their 

ears, 
Advanc'd their eyelids, lifted up their noses, 
As they smelt music; so I charm'd their ears. 
That, calf-like, they my lowing foilow'd, through 
Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goss, and 

thorns. 
Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left them 
I' the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell, 
There dancing up to the chins. 

LIGHTNESS OP FOOT. 

Pray you, tread softly, that the blind mole may not 
Hear a foot fall. 

ACT V. 

TEARS. 

His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 

From eaves:|: of reeds. 

COMPASSION AND CLEMENCY SUPERIOR TO REVENGE. 

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
Of their afflictions? and shall not myself, 

* Vanished. 

. t A body of clouds in motion; but it is most probable 
that the author wrote track. 
t Thatch. 



76 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

One of their kind, that relish all as sharply. 
Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art? 
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the 

quick, 
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury 
Do I take part: the rarer action is 
In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, 
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
Not a frown further. 

FAIRIES AND MAGIC. 

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and 
groves; 
And ye, that on the sands with printless foot 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him, 
When he comes back; you demi-puppets, that 
By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make, 
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose pastime 
Is to make midnight mushrooms; that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid 
(Weak masters though you be) I have bedimm'd 
The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds. 
And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault 
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak 
With his own bolt: the strong-bas'd promontory 
Have I made shake; and by the spurs pluck'd up 
The pine and cedar: graves, at my command, 
Have wak'd their sleepers; op'd, and let them forth 
By my so potent art. 

SENSES RETURNING. 

The charm dissolves apace, 
And as the morning steals upon the night. 
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle 
Their clearer reason. Omy good Gonzalo, 
My true preserver, and a loyal sir. 
To him thou folio vv'st; I will pay thy graces 
Home, both in word and deed. Most cruelly 
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter: 
Thy brother was a furtherer in the act: [blood. 

Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. Flesh and 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 77 

You brother mine, that entertained ambition, 
Expell'd remorse* and nature; who, with Sebastian, 
(Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong,) 
Would here have kill'd our king; I do forgive thee, 
Unnatural though thou art! — Their understanding 
Begins to swell; and the approaching tide 
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores, 
That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them, 
That yet looks on me, or would know me. 

ARIEL'S SONG. 

Where the bee sucks, there suck I ; 

In a cowslip's bell I lie; 

There I couch when owls do cry. 

On the bat's back, I do fly, 

After summer, merrily: 
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, 
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 

TWELFTH NIGHT. 



ACT I 

MUSIC. 

IF Music be the food of love, play on, 
Give ms excess of it; that, surfeiting, 
The appetite may sicken, and so die. — 
That strain again; it had a dying fall: 
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing, and giving odour. 

NATURAL AFFECTION ALLIED TO LOVE. 

O, she, that hath a heart of that fine frame, 
To pay tills d-'bt of love but to a brother. 
How will she love, when the rich golden shaft, 
Ham kill'd the flock of all affections else 
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart, 

* Pitv, or tenderness of heavl. 



78 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, aad lill'd, \i 
(Her sweet perfections) with one self king! | 

ESCAPE FROM DANGER. 

I saw your brother, 
Most provident in peril, bind himself 
(Courage and hope both teaching him the practice) 
To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea; 
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, 
I saw him hold acquaintance Avith the wave. 
So long as I could see. 

A BEAUTIFUL BOY. 

Dear lad, believe it; 
For they shall yet belie thy happy years 
That say, thou art a man: Diana's lip 
Is not more smooth, and rubious; thy small pipe 
Is as the maiden's organ, shrill, and sound. 
And all is semblative a woman's part. 

DETERMINED LOVE. 

O'i. Why, what would you.^ 

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
And call upon my soul within the house; 
Write loyal cantons* of contemned love. 
And sing them loud even in the dead of night 
Holla your name to the reverberatef hills, 
And make the babbling gossip of the air 
Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest 
Between the elements of air and earth. 
But you should pity me. 

ACT II. 

DISGUISE. 

Disguise. I see, thou art a wickednes-*, 
Wherein the pregnant+ enemy does much. 
How easy is it, for the proper-false § 
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms! 

♦ Cai/os, verses. t Echoing. 

t Deitcrous» ready fiend. § Fair deceiver. 



TWELFTH NIGHT. 79 

Alas, our frailtjis the cause, not we; 
For such as we are made of, such we be. 

TRUE LOVE. 

Come hither, boy; If ever thou shalt love. 
In the sweet pangs of it, remember me: 
For, such as I am, all true lovers are; 
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else. 
Save, in the constant image of the creature 
That is belov'd. 

THE WOMAN SHOULD BE YOUNGEST IN LOVE. 

Too old, by heaven; Let still the woman take 
An elder than herself; so wears she to him. 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm. 
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won. 
Than women'>» are. 

CHARACTER OP AN OLD SONG. 

Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain: 
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun. 
Are the free maids, that weave their thread with 

bones,* 
Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth, f 
And dallies with the innocence of love, 
Like the old age.:}: 

SONG. 

Gome away, come away, death. 
And in sad cypress let me be laid; 

Fly away, fly away, breath; 
I am slain by a fair cruel maid. 
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, 

O, prepare it; 
My part of death no one so true 
Did share it. 

Not a tiower, not a flower sweet, 
On my bljick collin lei there be strown; 

* Lace-makers. f Simple truth. 

t Timc^ of simpHcity. 



80 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Not a friend, not a friend greet 'j 

My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown, j 
A thousand thousand sighs to save, ' 

Lay me, O, where 
Sad true lover ne'er find my grave, 
To weep there. 

CONCEALED LOVE. 

She never told her love, 
But let concealment, like a worm i' the hud, 
Feed on her damask cheek; she pin'd in thought; 
And, Avith a green and yellow melancholy, 
She sat like patience on a monument, 
Smiling at grief. 

ACT III. 



This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; 
And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: 
He must observe their mood on whom he jests, 
The quality of persons, and the time; 
A.nd like the haggard,* check at every feather 
That comes before his eye. This is a practice, 
As full of labour as a Wiseman's art: 
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit; 
But wise men, folly fallen, quite taint their wit. 

U^ySOUGHT LOVE. 

Cesario, by the roses of the spring, 
By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, 
I love thee so, that, maugref all thy pride. 
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. 
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cau.se: 
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter: 
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. 

* A hawk not well trained, 
t In spite of. 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 81 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



ACT I. 

LOVE COMMENDED AND CENSURED. 

YET writers say, As in the sweetest bud, 
The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 
And writers say, As the most forward bud 
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, 
Even so by love the young and tender wit 
Is turn'd to folly; blasting in the bud, 
Losing his verdure even in the prime, 
And all the fair eflfects of future hopes. 

LOVE FROWARD AND DISSEMBLING. 

Maids, in modesty, say No, to that 
Which they would have the profferer construe, Aye. 
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love, 
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, 
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod ! 

ADVANTAGE OF TRAVELLING. 

He cannot be a perfect man, 

Not being try'd and tutor 'd in the world: 

Experience is by industry achiev'd. 

And perfected by the swift course of time. 

LOVE COMPARED TO AN APRIL DAY. 

O, how this spring of love resembleth 
The uncertain glory of an April day; 

Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, 
And by and by a cloud takes all away! 

ACT II. 

HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF A MAN IN LOVE. 

Marry, by these special marks: First, you have 
learned, like Sir Proteus, to wreathe your arms like 
{a malecontent; to relish a love-song, like a robin- 



82 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. i 

redbreast; to walk alone, like one that had the pes-'l 
tilence; to sigh, like a school-boy, that had lost his 
A, B, C; to weep, like a young wench that had bu- 
ried her grandam; to fast, like one that takes diet;* 
to watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak pu- 
ling, like a beggar at Hallownias.t You were wont, 
when you laughed, to crow like a cock; when you 
walked, to walk like one of the lions; when you fast- 
ed, it was presently after dinner; when you looked 
sadly, it was for the want of mone\^; and now youj 
are metamorphosed with a mistress, that, when I| 
look on you, I can hardly think you my master. '; 

AN ACCOMPLISHED YOUNG GENTLEMAN. 

His years but young, but his experience old; 
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe; 
And, in a word (for far behind his worth 
Come all the praises that I now bestow,) 
He is complete in feature and in mind. 
With all good grace to grace a gentleman, 

CONTEMPT OF LOVE PUNISHED. 

I have done penance for contemning love; 
Whose high imperious thoughts have punisiied me 
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans. 
With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs; 
For, in revenge of my contempt of love. 
Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes, 
And made them watchers of mine own heart's sor- 
row. 
O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; 
And hath so humbled me, as 1 confess, 
There is no wo to his correction. 
Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth! 
Now, no discourse, except it be of love; 
Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep, * 
Upon the very naked name of love. 

LOVE COMPARED TO A WAXEN IMAGE. 

For now my love is thaw'd; 
Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, 
Bears no impression of the thing it was. 

* Under ■■- ^ Alihaliowmaa 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 83 

LOVE INCREASED BY ATTEMPTS TO SUPPRESS IT. 

Didst thou but know the inly touch of love. 
Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow, 
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 

Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; 
But qualify the fire's extreme rage, 
Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 

Jul. The more thou dam'st* it up, the more it 
burns; 
The current that with gentle murmur glides, 
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage, 
But, when his fair course is not hindered, 
He makes sweet music with the enamel'd stones, 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overlaketh in his pilgrimage; 
And so by many winding nooks he strays. 
With willing sport to the wild ocean. 
Then let me go, and hinder not my course: 
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream. 
And make a pastime of each weary step, 
Till the last step have brought me to my love; 
And, there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil,t 
A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 

A FAIFHFUL AND CONSTANT LOVER. 

His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; 
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; 
His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart; 
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. 

ACT III. 

PRESENTS PREVAIL WITH WOMEN. \ 

Win her with gifts, if she respect not words; 
Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, 
More than quick words do move a woman's mind. 

A lover's BANISHMENT. 

And why not death, rather than living torment.'* 
To die, is to be banish'd froai myself; 

* Closest. t Trouble 



84 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And Silvia is myself: banished from her, 
Is self from self: a deadly banishment! 
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? 
What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? 
Unless it be to think that she is by, 
And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
Except I be by Silvia in the night. 
There is no music in the nightingale; 
Unless I look on Silvia in the day, 
There is no day for me to look upon. 

BEAUTY PETITIONING IN VAIN. 

Ay, ay; and she hath offer'd to the doom, 
(Which, unreservM, stands in effectual force,) 
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears: 
Those at her father's churlish feet she tendered; 
AVith them, upon her knees, her humble self; 
Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so becam'i 

them, 
As if but now they waxed pale for wo: 
But neither bended knees, pure hands held up, 
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears 
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire. 

HOPE. 

Hope is a lover's staff; walk hence with that, 
And manage it against despairing thoughts. 

LOVE COMPARED TO A FIGURE ON ICE. 

This weak impress of love is as a figure 
Trenched* in ice; which with an hour's heat 
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. 

THREE THINGS IN MAN DISLIKED BY FEMALES. 

The best way is to slander Valentine 
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent; 
Three things that women highly hold in hate. 

THE POWEE OF POETRY WITH FEMALES. 

Say, that upon the altar of her beauty 
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart. 

*Cut. 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. S5 

Write till your ink be dry . and with your tears 
Moist it againj and frame some feeling line; 
That may discover such integrity : — 
For Orpheus' lute was strung with poet's sinews; 
Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, 
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 



ACT IV. 

THE POWER OF ACTION. 

At that time I made her weep a-good,* 
For I did play a lamentable part : 
Madam, 'Uvas Ariadne, passioning 
For Theseus' perjury, and unjust flight; 
Whici) i so lively acted with my tears, 
That my poor mistress, moved there withal, 
Wept bitterly; and, would I might be dead; 
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow? 



ACT V. 

A LOVER IN SOLITUDE. 

How use doth breed a habit in a man ! 
JThis shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns. 
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any. 
And to the nightingale's complaining notes, 
Tune my distresses, and recordf my woes, 
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast. 
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; 
Lest growing ruinous, the building fall, 
And leave no memory of what it was! 
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia; 
Thou gentle nymph, cherish thy forlorn swain! 

LOVE UNRETURNED. 

What dangerous action, stood it next to death, 
Would I not undergo for one calm look? 

* In good earnest \ Sing. 



S6 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. | 

O, 'tis the curse in love,^and still approv'd,* M 

When women cannot love where they're belov'd. 

INFIDELITY IN A FRIEND. 

Who should be trusted now, when one's right 
hand 
h perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus, 
I am sorry, I must never trust thee more. 
But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 
The private wound is deepest. 

REPENTANCE. 

Who by repentance is, not satisfied. 
Is nor of heaven, nor earth. 

INCONSTANCY IN MAN. 

O heaven! were man 
But constant, he were perfect: that one error 
Fills him with faults. 



WINTER'S TALE. 
ACT I. . 

YOUTHFUL INNOCENCE. 

WE were, fair queen. 
Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, 
Eut such a day to-morrow as to-day. 
And to be boy eternal. 

We Avere as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i'the fuh 
And bleat the one at the other: what we chang'd, 
AVas innocence for innocence; we knew not 
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream-d 
That any did: Had we pursued that life. 
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd 
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd hca^ 

ven 
Boldly, Not guilty; the imposition cleared. 
Hereditary oursf 

*FeIt, experienced. f Setting aside oviginu.1 sin. 



WINTER'S TALE. 87 

FONDNESS OP A FATHER FOR HIS CHILD, 

Leon. Are you so fond of your young prince as we 
Do seem to be of ours? 

Pol. If at home, sir, 

He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter: 
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy: 
M}^ parasite, my soldier, statesman, all: 
He makes a July's day short as December; 
And, with his varying childness cures in me 
Thoughts that would thick my blood. 

JEALOUSY. 

Is whispering nothing.'' 
Is leaning cheek to cheek.-* is meeting noses? 
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career 
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible 
Of breaking honesty:) horsing foot on foot? 
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more swift? 
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes blind 
With the pin and web,* but theirs, theirs only, 
That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? 
Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is nothing; 
The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; 
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have these nothings, 
If this be nothing 

REGICIDES DETESTABLE. 

To do this deed. 
Promotion follows: If I could find example 
Of thousands that had struck anointed kings, 
And flourish'd after, I'd not do't: but since 
Nor brass, nor stone, nor parchment, bears not one, 
Let villany itself forswear't. 



ACT II. 

KNOWLEDGE SOMETIMES HURTFUL. 

There may be in the cup 
A spidert steep'd, and one may drink: depart, 

* Disorders of the eye. 

t Spiders were esteemed poisonous in our author's time. 



S3 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And yet partake no venom; for his knowledge 
Is not infected: but if one present 
The abhor'd ingredient to his eye, make known 
How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his sides. 
With violent hefts.* 

ELO<iUENCE OF SILENT INNOCENCE. 

The silence often of pure innocence 
Persuades, when speaking fails. 

EXPOSING AN INFANT. 

Come on, poor babe; 
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and ravens, 
To be thy nurses! Wolves, and bears, they say, 
Casting their savageness aside, have done 
Like offices of pity. 



ACT III. 

INNOCENCE. 

Innocence shall make 
False accusation blush, and tyranny 
Tremble at patience. 

DESPAIR OF PARDON. 

But, thou tyrant ! 
Do not repent these things; for they are heavier 
Than all thy woes can stir; therefore betake thee 
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees 
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting,. 
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter 
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
To look that way thou wert. 

DESCRIPTION OF A GHOST APPEARING IN A DREAM. 

I have heard (but not believ'd) the spirits of the 

dead 
May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother 
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream 
So like a waking. To me comes a creature, 



Hearings 



WINTER'S TALE. »9 

Sometimes her head on one side, some another; 

1 never saw a vessel of like sorrow, 

So fill'd and so becoming: in pure white robes, 

Like very sanctity, she did approach 

My cabin where I lay: thrice bow'd before me* 

And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes 

Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon 

Did this break from her: Good Antigonus, 

Since fate ^ against thy better disposition, 

Math made thy person for the thrower-out 

Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, — 

Places remote enough are in Bohemia, 

There weep, and leave it crying; and, for the babe 

Is counted lost for ever, Perdita, 

I pr^ylhee, calPt; for this ungentle business. 

Put on thee by my lord, thou ne^er shalt see 

Thy wife Paulina more: — and so, with shrieks, 

She melted into air. Affrighted much, 

i did in time collect myself; and thought 

This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are toys: 

Yet for this once, yea, superstitiously, 

I will be squar'd by this. 

THE INFANT EXPOSED. 

Poor wretch. 
That, for thy mother's fa<|t, art thus expos'd 
To loss, and what may follow ! — Weep I cannot, 
But my heart bleeds: and most accurs'd am I, 
To be by oath enjoin'd to this. — Farewell! 
The day frowns more and more; thou art like to 

have 
A lullaby too rough. 

A clown's description of a avreck. 

I would, you did but see how it chafes, how it ra- 
ges, how it takes up the shore! but that's not to the 
point: O, the most pitious cry of the poor 'souls! 
sometimes to see 'em, and not to see 'em: now the 
ship boring the moon with her main-mast: and anon 
swallowed with yest and froth, as you'd thrust a cork 
into a ho<;shead. And then for the land service, — 
To see how the bear tore out his shoulder-bone; how 
|ie cried to me for help, and said his name was An- 
8* 



90 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

tigonus, a nobleman;— But to make an end of the 
ship: — to see how the sea flap-dragoned* it: — but 
first, how the poor souls roared, and the sea mocked 
them; and how the poor gentleman roared, and the 
bear mocked him, both roaring louder than thti sea, 
or weather. 



ACT IV. 

A GARLAND FOR OLD MEN. 

Reverend sirs, 
For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep 
Seeming, and savour,t all the winter long; 
Grace, and remembrance, be to you both. 
And welcome to our shearing! 

NATURE AND ART. 

Per. Sir, the year growing ancient, — 
Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
Of irembiing winter, — ^the fairest flowers o'the seasoi\ 
Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflower?, 
"Which some call nature's bastards: of that kind 
Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not 
To get slips of them. 

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, 

Do you neglect them.'' 

Per. For:jPt have heard it said, 

■^rherc is an art, which, in their pieduess, shares 
With creating nature. 

Pol. Say, there be; 

Yet nature is made better by no mean. 
But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, 
Which, you say, adds to nature, is an art 
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, wc marry 
A gentler scion to the wildest stock; 
And make conceive a bark of baser kind 
By bud of nobler race; This is an art 
Which does mend nature, — change it rather: but 
The art itself is nature. 

A GARLAND FOR MIDDLE-AGED MEN. 

I'll not put 

* Svva.'owed. t Likeness and smell, t Because that. 



WINTER'S TALE. 91 

The dibble* in earth to set one slip of themj 
No more than, were I painted, I would wish 
This youth should say, 'twere well; and only there- 
fore 
Desire to breed by me. — Here's flowers for you; 
Hot lavender, mints, savory, majoram; 
The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun, 
And with him rises weeping; these are flowers 
Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given 
To men of middle age. 

A GARLAND FOR YOUNG MEN. 

Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your flock, 
And only live by gazing. 

Per. Out, alas! 

Yoa'd be so lean, that blasts of January 
'Would blow you through and through. — Now my 

fairest friend, 
'I would, I had some flowers o' the spring, that might 
Become your time of day; and yours, and yours; 
That Vy-ear upon your virgin branches yet 
Your maidenheads growing:— O Proserpina, 
Por the flowers now, that, frighted, thou let'st fall 
JFrom Dis'sf v/agon ! daffodils. 
That come before the swallow dares, and take 
The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, 
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. 
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, 
That die unmarried, ere they can behold 
Bi-iivht Pho3bus in his strength, a malady 
Most iiccident to maids; bold oxlips, and 
The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds. 
The flower-de-luce being one! O, these I lack, 
To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend 
To strew him o'er and o'er. • 

A lover's commendation. 

What you do. 
Still belters what is done. When you speak, sweet 
I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, 
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms; 

* A tool to set plants. f Pluto. 



92 BEAUTIES OF SHAKlJPEARE. ' 

Pray so; and, for the ordering jour affaiis, fj 

To sing them too: When you do dance, I wish you 
A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do 
Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own 
No other function: Each your doing. 
So singular in each particular, 
Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, 
That all your acts are queens. 

TRUE LOVE. 

He says, he loves my daughter: 
I think so too; for never gaz'dthe moon 
Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read, 
As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, ' 

I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, 
Who loves another best. 

PRESENTS LIGHTLY REGARDED BY REAL LOVERS, 

FoL How now, fair shepherd? 
Your heart is full of something, that docs take 
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when i was young. 
Am! handed love, as you do, I was wont 
To load my she with knacks: I would have ransack'cj 
The pedler's silken treasury, and have pour'd it 
To her acceptance; you have let him go, 
And nothing marted* with him; if your la^s 
Interpretation should abuse; and call this 
Your lack of love, or bounty : you were straitedf 
For a reply, at least if you make a care 
or happy holding her. 

Flo. Old sir, I know 

She prizes not such trifles as these are: 
The gilts, she looks from me, are pack'd and lock'd 
Up in my heart; which I have given already. 
But not deliv^er'd." — O, hear me breath my life 
Betbre this ancient sir,' who, it should seem, 
Hath sometime lov'd: I take thy hand; this hand, 
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it; 
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow, 
That's bolted^ by the northern blasts twice o'er. 

* Bought, trafficked. f Put to difficultie?. 

tThe sieve used to separate flour from bran is called a 
boUinff-cloth. 



WINTER'S TALE. 93 

A FATHER THE BEST GUEST AT HIS SON'S NUPTIALS. 

Pol. Methinks, a father 
Is, at the nuptial of his son, a guest 
That best becomes the table. Pray you, once more: 
Is not your father grown incapable 
Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid 
With age, and altering rheums.'' Can he speak .^ 

hear? 
Know man from man? dispute his own estate.?* 
Lies he not bed-rid? and again does nothing, 
But what he did being childish? 

F!o. No, good sir: 

He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed, 
Than mo5t have of his age. 

Pol. By my white beard. 

You offer him, if this be so, a wrong- 
Something unfilial: Reason, my son 
Should choose himself a wife: but as good reason. 
The father (all whose joy is nothing else 
But fair posterity,) should hold some counsel 
In such a business. 

RURAL SIMPLICITY. 

I was not much afeard. for once, or twice, 
I was about to speak; and tell him plainly, 
The self-same sun, that shines upon his court, 
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but 
Looks on alike. 

LOVS CEMENTED BY PROSPERITY, BUT LOOSENED BY 
ADVERSITY. 

Prosperity's the very bond of love; 
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together 
Affliction alters. 

ACT V. 

WOJ..'!'ER, PROCEEDING FROM SUDDEN JOY. 

There was si)eech in their dumbness, language in 
their very gesture; they looked, as they had heard 
of a world ransomed, or one destroyed : A notable 
passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest 

* Talk over his affairs. 



94 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

beholder, that knew no more but seeing, could not 
say, if the importance* were joy, or sorrow: but in 
the extremity of the one, it must needs be. 

A STATUTE. 

What was he, that did make it? — See, my lord, 
Would you not deem, it breath'd? and that those 

veins 
Did verily bear blood ? 

Pol. Masterly done : 

The very life seems warm upon her lip. 

Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in'tf 
AsJ we are mock'd with art. 
Still, methinks 

There is an air comes from her; What fine chisel 
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock me, 
For I will kiss her. 

A WIDOW COMPARED TO A TURTLE. 

I, an old turtle. 
Will wing me to some wither'd bow; and there 
My mate, that's never to be found again, 
Lament till I am lost. 

* The thing imported. 

t i. e. Though her eye be fixed, it seems to have mation 
in it. t As if. 



f 

BEAUTIES 

OF 

SHAKSPEARE. 

PART II. 



KING JOHN. 



ACT I. 



NEW TITLES. 

GOOD den^* sir Richard, — God-a-mercy,fellow;- 
And if Ijis name be George, I'll call him Peter 
For new msrde honour doth forget men's names : 
'Tis too respective, t and too socialjle, 
For your conversion.^ Now your traveller, — 
He and his tooth-pick at my v^^orship's mess; 
And when my nightly stomach is suffic'd, 
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechise 

Mv picked man of countries :§ My dear sir, 

(Thus, leaning on mine elhow, I begin,) 
/ shall beseech you — That is question now: 
And then comes answer like an ABC-book rjl — 
O sir, says answer, at your best command; 

Al your employment ; at your service, sir: 

No, sir, says question, /, sweet sir, at yours; 

And so, ere ansAver knows Avhat question would, 

(Saving in dialogue of compliment; 

And talking of the Alps, and Appenines; 

The Pyrenean, and the river Po,) 

It draws towards supper in conclusion so. 

But this is worshipful society, 

* Good evening. t Respectable. 

t- Change of condition. § My travelled fop. 

fl Catechism. /, 



^< 



BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



And fits the mounting spirits, like myself: 
For he is a bastard to the time, 
That doth not smack of observation. 

ACT II. 

DESCRIPTION OF ENGLAND. 

That pale, that white-fac'd shore, 
Whose foot spurns back the ocean's roaring tides, 
And coops from other lands her i&landers, 
Even till that England, hedg'd in wdth the main^ 
That water-walled bulwark, still secure 
And confident from foreign purposes, 
Even till that utmost corner of the west 
Salute thee for her king. 

DESCRIPTION OF AN ENGLISH ARMY. 

His marches are expedient* to this town. 
His forces strong, his soldiers confident. 
With him along is come the mother-queen, 
An Ate,t stirring him to blood and strife; 
\Vith her her niece, the lady Blanch of Spain; 
AVith them a bastard of the king deceas'd: 
And all the unsettled humors of the land, — 
Hash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries. 
With ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens,— 
Have sold their fortunes at their native homes. 
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs, 
To make a hazard of new fortunes here. 
In brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits. 
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er, 
Did never float upon the swelling tide, 
To do offence and scathj in Christendom. 
The interruption of their churlish drums 
Cuts oif more circumstance: they are at hand. 

COURAGE. 

By how much unexpected, by so much 
We must awake endeavour for defence; 
For courage mounteth with occasion. 

* Immediate, expeditious. 

t The Goddess of Revenge. t Mischief- 



KING JOHN. 97^ 

A BOASTER. 

Wlidt cracker is this same, that deafs our ears 
With this abundance of superfluous breath? 

DESCRIPTION OF VICTORY BY THE FRENCH. 

You men of Angiers, open wide your gates. 
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in; 
Who, by the hand of France, this day hath made 
Much work for tears in many an English mother. 
Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding ground: 
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, 
Coldly embracing the discolour'd earth; 
And victory, with little loss, doth play 
Upon the dancing banners of the French; 
AVhich are at hand, triumphantly display'd 
To enter conquerors. 

VICTORY DESCRIBED BY THE ENGLISH. 

Rejoice, you men of Angiers, ring your bells; 

King John; your king and England's, doth approach, 

Commander of this hot malicious day ! 

Their armours, that march'd hence so silver bright, 

Hither return all gilt with Frenchman's blood; 

There stuck no plume in any English crest. 

That is removed by a staff of France; 

Our colours do return in those same hands 

That did display them when we first march'd forth: 

And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come 

Our lusty English, all with purpled hands. 

Died in the dying slaughter of their foes. 

A COMPLETE LADY. 

If lusty love should go in quest of beauty. 
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch.'' 
If zealous* l6ve should go in search of virtue. 
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch? 
If love ambitious sought a match of birth. 
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch? 

POWERFUL EFFECTS OF SELF-INTEREST. 

Roundedf in the ear 
With that same purpose-changer, that sly devil, 

♦ Pious. t Conspired. 

9 



98 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That broker, that still breaks the pate of faith j 
That daily break-vow; he that wins of all, 
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, maids; — 
Who having no external thing to lose « 

But the word maid, — cheats tiie poor maid of that; 
That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling commodi- 

ty,*- 
Commodity, the bias of the world: 
The world, who of itself is peisedf well, 
Made to run even, upon even ground; , 

Till this advantage, this vile drawing bias. 
This sway of motion, this commodity. 
Makes it take head from all indiflferency, 
From all direction, purpose, course, intent: 
And this same bias, &c. 



ACT III. 

A woman's fears. 
Thou shalt be punish'd for thus frightening me. 
For I am sick, and capable^ of fears; 
Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of fears; 
A widow^, husbandless, subject to fears; 
A woman naturally born to fears; 
And though thou now confess, thou didst but jest. 
With my vex'd spirits I cannot take a truce, 
But they will quake and tremble all this day. 

TOKENS OF GRIEF. 

What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head.'' 
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son.'' 
What means that hand upon that breast of thine? 
Why holds thine eye that lamentable rheum, 
Like a proud river peering§ o'er his bounds? 
Be these sad signs conlirmers of thy words? 
Then speak again; not all thy former tale, 
But this one word, whether thy tale be true. 

* Interest. + Poised, balanced. 

l Susceptible. § Appeanng. 



KING JOHN. 90 

A mother's fondxess for a beautiful, child. 
If thou, that bid'st rae be content, wert grim, 
Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb. 
Full of nnpleasing blots, and sightless* stains, 
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigious,! 
Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-offending marks, 
I would not care, I then wonld be content; 
For then I should not love thee; no, nor thou 
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. 
But thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy! 
Nature and fortune join'd to make thee great 
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast. 
And with the half-blown rose. 

GRIEF. 

I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; 
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. 

COWARDICE AND PERJURY. 

Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame 

That bloody spoil: Thou slave, thou wretch, thou 

coward : 
Thou little valiant, great in villany ! 
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side ! 
Thou fortune's champion, that dost never fight 
But when her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety ! thou art perjur'd too, 
And sooth'st up greatness. What a fool art thou, 
A ramping fool; to brag, and stamp, and swear, 
Upon my party ! Thou cold-blooded slave. 
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? 
Been sworn my soldier.? bidding me depend 
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength.? 
And dost thou now fall over to my ibes? 
Thou wear a lion's hide! doffj it for shame. 
And hang a calf's skin on those recreant limbs. 

THE HORRORS OF A CONSPIRACY. 

1 had a thing to r,?.y, — Bat let it go: 

The sun is in the heaven, a»d the proud day, 

♦Unsightly. t Portentous. + Do off 



100 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Attended with the pleasures of the world, 

Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,* 

To give me audience: — If the midnight bell 

Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, 

Sound one unto the drowsy race of night; 

If this same were a churchyard where we stand, 

And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; 

Or if that surly spirit, melancholy, 

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy, thick; 

(Which, else runs tickling up and down the veins, 

Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes, 

And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 

A passion hateful to my purposes;) 

Or if that thou could'st see me without eyes, 

Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 

Without a tongue, using conceitf alone. 

Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words: 

Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 

I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: 

But, ah, I will not. 

APOSTROPHE TO DEATH. 

amiable, lovely death ! 

Thou odoriferous stench! sound rottenness! 

Arise forth from the couch of lasting night 

Thou hate and terror to prosperity. 

And I will kiss thy detestable bones; 

And put my eye-balls in thy vaulty brows; 

And ring these fingers with thy household worm: 

And stop this gap of breath with fulsome dust, 

And be a carrion monster like thyself: 

Come, grin on me; and I will think thou smil'st, 

And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love, 

O, come to me ! 

A mother's ravings. 

1 am not mad: this hair I tear, is mine; 
My name is Constance; I was Geffrey's wife; 
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: 

I am not mad; — I would to heaven I were! 
For then, 'tis like I should forget myself: 

* Showy ornaments. f Conception. 



KING JOHN. 101 

O, if I could, what grief should I forget! — 
Preach some philosoph}^ to make me mad, 
And thou shalt be canoniz'd, cardinal; 
For, being not mad, but senpibls of grief, 
My reasonable part produces reason 
How I may be deliver'd of these woes, 
And teaches me to kill or hang myself: " 
if I were mad, I should forget my son; 
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he: 
I am not mad; too well, too well I feel 
The different plague of each calamity. 

A mother's grief for tiik loss of a son. 

Father cardinal, I have heard you say-, 
That Ave shall see and know oar friends in heaven: 
If that be true, I shall see my ]>oy again; 
For, since the birth of Cain, the "lirst male child, 
To him that did but yesterday suspire,* 
There was not such a graciousf creature born, 
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud. 
And chase the nalive beauty from his cheek, 
And he will look as hollow as a ghost; 
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit; 
And so he'il die; and, rising so again, 
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven 
I shall not know him: therefore never, never 
Must I behold my pretty Arthur more, 

Pand. You hold too heinous a respect of grief. 

Const. He talks to me, that never had a son. 

K. Phi. You are as fond of grief, as of your child. 

Const. Grief tills the room up of my absent cliild. 
Lies in his bed, Avalks up and down with me; 
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, 
Remembers me of all his gracious parts. 
Stuffs out his vac-ant garments with his form: 
Then, have I reason to be fond of grief. 

DESPONUENCy. 

There's nothing in this world can make me joy: 
Life is as tedious as a twice-lold tale, 
Yexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. 

* Breathe. t Gracefnk • 



102 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

STRENGTH OF DEPARTING DISEASES. 

Before the curing of a strong disease, 
Even in the instant of repair and health, 
The fit is strongest; evils, that take leave, 
On their departure most of all show evil. 

DANGER TAKES HOLD OF ANY SUPPORT. 

He, that stands upon a slippery place. 
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. 

ACT IV. 

ARTHUR'S PATHETIC SPEECHES TO HUBERT. 

Methinks, no body should be sad but I: 
Yet, I rem'ember, when I was in France, 
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night, 
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
I should be as merrj' as the day is long. 
*■ * * * * 

Have you the heart? When 3'our head did but 
ache, 
I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
(The best I had, a princess wrought it me,) 
And I did never ask it you again : 
And with my hand at midnight held 3'our head. 
And, like the watchful minutes to the hour 
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time; 
Saying, What lack you? and, where lies your grief? 
Or, What good love may I perform for you? 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still, 
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to yon; 
But yod at your sick service had a prince'. 
Nayj you may think my love, was crafty love, 
And call it cunning: Do, an if you will: 
If heaven be pleas'd that you must use me ill, 
Why, then you must. — Will you put out mine eyes? 
These eyes, that never dii!, nor never shall, , 

So much as frown on you? 

***** 

Alas, what need you be so boist'rous rough? 
I will not struggle, I will stand st^ne-still. 



KING JOHN. 103 

For heaven^s sake, Hubert, let me not be bound! 

Nay, hear me, Hubert! drive these men awaj', 

And 1 will sit as quiet as a lamb; 

I will-not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word. 

Nor look upon the iron angerly; 

Thru; t but these men away, I'll forgive you, 

Whatever torment you do put me to. 

Is there no remedy? 

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes 

Arth. O heaven ! — that there were but a moat in. 
yours, 

A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, 

A ny annoyance in that precious sense ! 

Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous there^ 

Your vile intent must needs seem horrible. 

PERFECTION ADMITS OF NO ADDITON. 

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, 
To throw a perfume on the violet, 
To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow, or with taper light 
To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish," 
Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. 

* * # * * 

In this, the antique and well noted-face, 
Of plain old form is much disfigured: 
And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, 
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about: 
Startles and frights consideration; 
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, 
For putting on so new a fashioned robe. 

THE COUNTENANCE OF A MURDERER. 

This is the man should do the bloody deed; 
The image of a wicked henious fault 
Lives in Ids eye; that close aspect of his 
Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast, 

A STRUGGLING CONSCIENCE. 

Tiie colour of the king doth come and go, 
Betvreen his purpose and his conscience, 

♦Decorate. 



104 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set . ^ 

His passion is so ripe, it needs must break: 

NEWS BEARERS. 

Old men, and beldams, in the streets 

Do prophesy upon it dangerously: 

y^oung Arthur's death is common in their mouths: 

And when they talk of him they shake their heads. 

And whisper one another in the ear; 

And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist; 

Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action. 

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes 

I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus, 

The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool, 

W^ith open mouth swallowing a tailor's news. 

Vv ho, with his shears and measure in his hand 

Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste 

Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,) 

Told of a many thousand warlike French, 

That were embattled and rank'd in Kent: 

Anctlier lean unwash'd artilicer 

Cuts otF hisiale, and talks of Arthur's death. 

THE EVIL PURPOSES OF KINGS TOO SEP.VILELY 
EXECUTED. 

It is the curse of kings, to be attended 
By slaves, that take their humours for a v.'arrant 
To break within the bloody house of life: 
And, on the winking of authority, 
To understand a law; to know the meaning 
Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it frowns 
More upon humour than advis'd respect.* 
^ A villain's look, and readv zeal. 
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds. 
Makes deeds ill done! Hadst not thou been by, 
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'a, 
Q,uoted,f and sign'd, to do a deed of shame. 
This murder had not come into my mind. 
Hadst thoa but shook thy head, or made a pauso 
When I spake darkly what I purposed; 
Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face, 

♦Deliberate consideration. t Observed 



KING JOHN. 106 

As bid me tell my tale in express words; 

Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me break off, 

And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me. 

I HYPOCRISY. 

1 Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, 
For villany is not without such rheum;* 
And he, ions; traded in it, makes it seem 

i liike rivers of remorsef and innocency. 

DESPAIR. 

If thou didst but consent 
To this most cruel act, do but despair. 
And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest threaa 
That ever spider twisted from her womb 
Will serve to strangle thee; a rush will be 
A boam to hang thee on; or would'st thou drown 

thyself, 
Put but a little water in a spoon, 
And it shall be as all the ocean, 
Enough to stifle such a villain up. 

ACT V. 

A MAN IN TEARS. 

L<^t me wipe off this honourable dew, 
That silverly doth progress on thy cheeks; 
My heart hath melted at a lady's tears, 
Being an ordinary inundation: 
Bat this effusion of such manly drops. 
This shower, blown up by tempest of the soul, 
Startles mine eyes, and makes me more amaz'd 
Than had I seen the vanity top of heaven 
Figur'd quite o'er with burning meteors. 
Lift uj) thy biou', renowned Salisbury, 
And with a great heart heave away this storm: 
Commend these waters to those baby eyes, 
That never saw the giant world enrag'dj 
Nor nfist with fortune other than at feasts, 
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of gossijjping. 

* Moisture. t Pity. 



106 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 



Strike up the drums: and let the tongue of war 

Plead for our interest. 

* # « * « 

Do but start 
An echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
And even at hand a drum is ready brac'd, 
That shall reverberate all as loud as thine; 
Sound but another, and another shall. 
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's* ear, 
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder. 

» APPROACH OF DEATH. 

It is too late; the life of all his blood 
Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain [house,) 
(Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling- 
Doth, by the idle comments that it makes, 
Foretell the ending of mortalitj^ 

MADNESS OCCASIONED BY POISON. 

Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow room; 
It would not out at windows, nor at doors. 
There is so hot a summer in my bosom, 
That all my bowels crumble up to dust: 
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen 
Upon a parchment; and against this fire 
Do I shrink up, 

Poison'd, — ill fare:— dead, forsook, cast off: 
And none of you will bid the winter come, 
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; 
Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course 
Through my burn'd bosom; nor entreat the north 
To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips 
And comfort me with cold. 

ENGLAND INVINCIBLE IF UNANIMOUS. 

England never did (nor never shall) 
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, 
Bnt when it first did help to wound itself. 
]Vow these her princes are come home again, 
ome the three corners of the a\ orld in arms, 
*Skv. 



KING RICHARD II. 107 

And we shall shock them: Nought shall m&ke us 

rue, 
If England to itself do rest but true. 



KING RICHARD 11. 



ACT I. 



REPUTATION. 

THE purest treasure mortal times afford, 
Is — spotless reputation; that away, 
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 

COWARDICE. 

That which in mean men we entitle — patience, 
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 

CONSOLATION UNDER BANISHMENT. 

All places that the eye of heaven visits, 
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens: 
Teach thy necessity to reason thus; 
There is no virtue like necessity. 
Think not, the king did banish thee; 
But thou the king: Wo doth the heavier sit, 
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne, 
ao, say — I sent thee forth to purchase honour, 
\nd not — the king exil'd thee: or suppose, 
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, 
\nd thou art flying to a fresher clime. 
fiOok, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com*st, 
Suppose the singing birds, musicians; 
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence* 

strew'd ; 

The llower.-. fair ladies; and thy steps, no more 
Than a delightfal aneasure, or a dance: 
^or gnarlingt sorrow hath less power to bite 
The raan that mcck^ at it, and setc it light. 

* Fie=ence ch;imbef at court. f Gro-,fhng. 



108 BEAIH'IBS OF SHAKSPEARE. 

THOUGHTS INEFFECTUAL TO MODERATE 
AFFLICTION. 

O, who can hold a fire in his hand, 
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite 
By bare imagination of a feast? 
Or wallow naked in December snow, 
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? 
0. 1.0 ! the apprehension of the good, 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: 
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, 
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 

POPULARITY. 

Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, 
Observ'd his courtship to the common people:— 
H -jw he did seem to dive into their hearts, 
'^Vith humble and familiar courtesy; 
What reverence he did throw away on slaves; 
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, 
And patient underbearing of his fortune, 
As 'twere, to banish their affects with him. 
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster wench; 
A brace of draymen bid-TsGod speed him well, 
\nd had the tribute of his supple knee, 
With — Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends ',- 
As were our England in reversion his. 
And he our subjects' next degree in hope. 

ACT II. 

ENGLAND PATHETICALLY DESCRIBED. 

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isic. 
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, 
This other Eden, demi-paradise; 
This fortress, built by nature for herself^ 
Against infection, and the hand of war; 
This happy breed of men, this little world: 
This precious stone set in the silver Sv?a, 
Which serves it in the office of a wau, 
Or as a moat defensive to a house, 
Against the envy of less happier lands. 



KING KiCHARD 11. 109 

England, bound in with the triumphant eea, 
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege 
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, 
With iniiy blots and rotten parchment bonds: 
That England, that was wont to conquer others, 
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. 

GRIEF. 

Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows, 
Which show like grief itself, but are not so: 
For sorrow's eye, glaz'd with blinding tears, 
Divides one thing entire to many objects; 
Like perspectives,* which, rightly gaz'd upon, 
Show nothing but confusion; ey'd awry, 
Distinguish form. 

HOPE DECEITFUL. 

I will despair, and be at enmity 
With cozening hope; he is a flatterer, 
A parasite, a keeper-back of death, 
Who gently would dissolve the bands of life, 
Which false hope lingers in extremity. 

PROGNOSTICS OF WAP. 

The bay-trees in our country are all vvither'd,' 
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven; 
The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth. 
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change: 
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap. 



ACT III. 

APOSTROPHE TO ENOLAKD. 

As a long-parted mother with her child 
Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in meeting. 
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, ray earth, 
And do thee favour with ray roval hands. 
Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth, 
Nor with thy sweets comfort his rav'nous sen^c 
But let thy spiders, that sack up thy venom, 
And bcitvy-^ited toads, lie io tbeii" vryy^; 

10 



110 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Doing annoyance to the treacherous feet, 
Which with usurping steps do trample thee. 
Yield stinging nettles to mine enemies: 
And when they from thy bosom pluck a flower, 
Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder; 
Whose double tongue may Avith a mortal touch 
Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemies. — 
Mock not my senseless conjuration, lords; 
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stones 
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king 
Shall faker under foul rebellious arms. 

SUN RISING AFTER A DARE NIGHT. 

Know'st thou not. 
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
Behind the globe, and lights the "lower world, 
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen. 
In murders, and in outrage, bloody here; 
But when, irom under this terrestrial ball, 
He fjres the proud tops of the eastern pines, 
Ami darts his light througli every guilty hole, 
Then mucderf*, treasons, and detested sins, 
The cloak ofnight being pluck'd from oftTheir backs, 
Stand bare cind naked, trembling at themselves? 

VANITY OF POV/EU AND ?.IISERY OP KINGS. 

No matter where; of comfort no man speak: 
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; 
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
Write sorrov/ on the bosom of the earth. 
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills: 
And yet not so, — for what can we bequeath, 
Save our'deposed bodies to the ground? 
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, 
And nothing can we call our own, but death; 
And that small model of th.e barren earth, 
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. / 

For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground, 
And tell sad stories of the death of kings: — - 
How some have been depor.'d, some slain in war; 
^ome haunted by the ghosts they have depor-'d; 
^'ome poison-dby their wives, fcomo sleeping kill'd, 
•'^ ' ■•— For wit.b'" the hullo v# crown 



KING RICHARD II. Ill 

That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 

Keeps death his court: and there the antic sits. 

Scoffing his state, and grinning at his pomp; 

Allowing him a breath, a little scene. 

To monarchize, be lear'd, and kill with looks; 

Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — 

As if this flesh, which walls about our life. 

Were brass impregnable: and humour'd thus, 

Comes at the last, and with a little pin 

Bores through his castle wall, and — farewell king! 

Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood 

With solemn reverence; throw away respect, 

Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty, 

For you have but mistook me all this while : 

I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 

Need friends: — Subjected thus, 

How can you say to me— I am a king? 

ACT V. . 

MELANCHOLY STORIES. 

In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire 
With good Old folks; and let them tell thee tales 
Of woful ages, long ago betid:* 
And ere thou bid good night, to quitf their grief, 
Tell thou the lamentable fall of me, 
And send the hearers weeping to their bedti. 

PUBLIC ENTRY. 

York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling- 

broke, — 
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, 
AVhich his aspiring rider seem'd to know, — 
Willi slow, hut stately pace, kept on his course, 
While all tongues cried — God save thee, BoLing- 

broke ! 
You would have thought the very windows spake. 
So many greedy looks oi' young and old 
Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
Upon his visage: and that all the v,alls. 
With painted imag'ryjj had said a. once, — 
♦ Passed. t Be even with them. 

Tepestry hun^ frcm the svindovs. 



112 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Jesu preserve thee ! welcome, Bolingbroke! 
Whilst he, from one side to the other turning, 
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
Bespake them thus, — I thank you, countrymen. 
And thus still doing, thus he pass'd along. 

Duch. Alas, poor Richard ! where rides he the 
while ? 

York. A&-in a theatre, the eyes of men. 
After a well-grac'd actor leaves the stage. 
Are idly bent* on him that enters next. 
Thinking his prattle to be tedious: 
Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes 
Did scowl on Richard; no man cried,God save him; 
No joyful tongue gave him his welcome home: 
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head; 
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook off, — 
His face still combating Avith tears and smiles, 
The badges of his grief and patience, — 
That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd 
The hearts of men, they must perforce have melted. 
And barbarism itself have pitied him. 

VIOLETS. 

Who are the violets now, 
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring? 

A SOLILOQ,UY IN PRISON. 

I have been studying how I may compare 
This prison, where! live, unto the\Yorld: 
And, for because the world is populous. 
And here is not a creature but myself, 
I cannot do it; — Yet I'll hammer it out. 
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; 
My soul, the father: and these two beget 
A generation of still-breeding thoughts. 
And these same thoughts people this little worldf 
Jn humors, like the people of this world. 
For no thought is contented. 

« » « » « 

Thoughts tending to content, flatter themselves,— 
That they are not the first of fortune's slaves, 

• Carelessly turned. + His own body. 



KING HENRY IV. lis 

Nor shall not be the last; like silly beggar*, 
Who, sitting in the stocks refuge their shame, — 
That many have, and others must sit there: 
And in this thought they find a kind of ease, 
Bearing their own misfortune on the back 
Of such as have before endur'd the like, 
Thus play I, in one person, many people, 
And none contented: Sometimes am I kingj 
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar, 
And so I am: Then crushing penury 
Persuades me I was better when a King- 
Then I am king'd again: and bj'-and-by, 
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, 
And straight am nothing: — But, whate'er I am, 
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, 
With nothing shall be pleas'd, till he be eas'd 
With being nothing. 



KING HENRY IV. 

PART I. 

ACT I. 

PEACE AFTER CIVIL WAR. 

SO shaken as we are, so wan with care, 
.Find we a tinic for frighted peace to paint, 
And breathe short-winded accents of new broik 
To be commenc'd in strands* afar remote. 
No more the thirsty Erinnysf of this soil 
Shall daub her lips with her own children's bloo^l, 
No more shall trenching wav channel her fields, 
Nor bruise her ilow'rets with the armed hoofs 
Of hostile paces: those opposed eves, 
Which, — like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 

All of one nature, of one substance bred, r 

Did lately meet in the intestine shock 

And furious close of civil butchery, 

Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks, 

* Strands, i>anks of the sea. 

fTUc fiirv tti" fliscord. 

10* 



I 1 4 BEAUTIES or SHAKSPEARE. 

.March all one way; and be no more oppos'd 
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies: 
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife. 
No more shall cut his master. 

KIiNG henry's character OF PERCY, AND OF 
HIS SON PRINCE HENRY, 

Yea, there thou mak'st me sad, and mak'st me sm 
In envy that my lord Northumberland 
Should be the father of so bless'd a son. 
A son, who is the theme of honour's tongue; 
Amongst a grove, ^he very straightest plant; 
Who is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride; 
Whilst I, by looking on the praise of him. 
See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
^i my young Harry. 

PRINCE henry's S0LIL0Q,Ur. 

I koGw you all, and will awhile uphold 
"i'hr unyok'd humour of your idleness: 
Yet herein will I imitate the sun; 
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
To smother up his beauty from the world, 
Tha-t, when he please again to he himself, 
Ijeing wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
UY breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
or vapours that did seem to strangle him.. 
1 i" all the year were playing holidays, 
To cport would be as tedious as to work; 
i>ut, when Ihey seldom come, they wish'd-for come; 
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
5o. irhcn this loose behaviour 1 throw olii", 
And pay the debt I never prcm.ised, 
lir how much better than my ^^■o■:^ I am. 
By so much shall I falsify men's hopes;** 
Anil, like bright metal on a suiienf ground, 
My reformation, glittering o-er my fault, 
Shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, 
Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
I'll so offend, to make offence a skill; 
Redeeming time, when nien think least I vail. 

*Evr5ctafIon?, t DtiiL 



KING HENRY IV. 115 

hotspur's description of a finical courtier. 

But, I remember, when the fight was done, 
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil, 
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my sword. 
Came there a certain lord, nea^, trimly dress'd, 
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd, 
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest home; 
He was perfumed like a milliner; 
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
A pouncet-box,* which ever and anon 
He gave his nose, and took't away again; — 
Who, there vv'ith angry, when it noKt came there, 
Took it in snul!": — and still he smil'tl, and talk'd; 
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
He cail'd them— untaught knaves, unmannerly, 
To bring a slovenl}' unhandsome corse 
Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
With many holiday and lady terms 
He questioned me; among the rest demanded 
My prisoners, in your majesty-s behalf. 
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being cold, 
To be so pester'd with a popinjay .f 
Out of my grief+ and my impatience, 
Ans-wer'd negiectingly, I know not what; 
He should, or he should not; — for he mat'^e me mad. 
To see him shine so brisk, and smell so sweet. 
And talk so like a waiting-gentlewoman, 
Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save the 

mark!) 
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth 
Was permaceti, for an inward bruise; 
And that it v.as great pity, so it was. 
That viilanous -dlt-petre should be digg'd 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
Which many a good tall§ fellow had destroy'd 
So cowardly; and, but for these vile guns, 
He would himself have beec a soldier. 

* A small box fcr musk or other perfumes. 
t Parrot. i Fain. § Bra'-e. 



116 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

DANGER. 

I'll read you matter deep and dangerous: 
As full of peril, and adventurous spirit, 
As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud, 
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear. 

HONOUR. 

By heaven, methinks, it were an easy leap. 
To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon 
Or dive into the bottom of the deep, 
Where fathom-line could never touch the ground 
And pluck up downward honour by the locks; 
So he, that dotb redeem her thence, might wear. 
Without corrival,* all her dignities: 
But out upon this half-fac'd fellowship!! 

ACT II. 

LADY Percy's pathetic speech to her husband 

O my good lord, why are you thus alone.'' 
For what offence have I, this fortnight, been 
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed.'' 
Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that lakes from thee 
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep.?' 
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth: 
And start so often when thou sit'st alone? 
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy cheeks; 
And given my treasures, and my rights of thee. 
To thick-ey'd musing, and cuis'd melancholy."* 
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch'd, 
And heard thee murmur tales of iron wars: 
Speak terms of manage to th_y bounding steed; 
Cry, Courage! — to the field! And thou hast talk'.! 
or sallies, and retires; of trenches, tents, 
Of pallisadoes, frontiers, parapets; 
Of basilisks, of cannon, culvf:rin; 
Of prisoners ransom, and of soldiers slain, 
And all the 'currents;]: of a heady fight. 
Thy spirit within thee hath been so at n ar, 
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 

* A rival. t Friendship. + Occurrences. 



KING HENRY IV. 117 

That beads* of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 

Like bubbles in a late disturbed stream; 

And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 

Such as we see when men restrain their breath 

On some great sudden haste. 0, what portents are 

these? 

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand, 
lAnd I must know it, else he loves me not. 



ACT III. 

PRODIGIES RIDICULED. 

I cannot blame him: at my nativity 
!The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes, 
Of burning cressets;! and, at my birth, 
The frame and huge foundation of the earth 
Shak'd like a coward. 

Hot. Why, so it would have done 

At the same season, if your mother's cat had 
But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born. 

# # • « « 
Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
In strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth 
Is with a kind of cholic pinch'd and vex'd 
By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
Within her womb; which, for enlargement striving. 
Shakes the old beldame earth, and topplesj down 
Steeples and moss-grown towers. 

Oy MISERABLE RHYMERS. 

Marry, and I am glad of it with all my heart: 
I had rather be a kitten, and cry — mew, 
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers; 
I had rather hear a brazen canstick§ turn'd, 
Or a dry wheel grate on an axletree; 
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, - 

* Drops. 

t Lights set cross ways upon beacons, and also upon 
poles, which were used in processions, &c. 
t Tumbles. § Candlestick. 



118 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAR.^ 

Nothing so much as mincing poetry; 
»Tis like the forc'd gait of a snuffling nag. 

PUNCTUALITY IN BARGAINS. 

I'll give thrice so much land 
To an}' well-deserving friend; 
But, in the w^ay of bargain, mark ye me, 
I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 

A HUSBAND SUNG TO SLEEP BY HIS WIFE. 

She bids you 
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, 
And rest your gentle head upon her lap, 
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you. 
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep, 
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness: 
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep. 
As is the ditference 'twixt day and night, 
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team 
Begins his golden progress in the east. 

EING HENPvY's pathetic ADDRESS TO HIS SON. 

Had [ so lavish of my presence been, 
So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, 
So stale and cheap to vulgar company: 
Opinion, that did help me to the crown. 
Had still kept loyal to possession;* 
And left me in reputeless banishment, 
A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood. 
By being seldom seen, I could not stir, 
But, like a comet, I was wotider'd at: 
That men would tell their children, This is he; 
Others would say, — Where? — which is Bolingbi'oke'r 
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven. 
And dress'd myself in such humility, 
That I did pluck allegiance from men's hearts, 
Loud shouts and salutations from their mouths, 
Even in the presence of the crowned king. 
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new; 
My presence, like a robe pontifical, 

*Tfue to him fnat had then posses.^ion of the crown 



KING HENRY IV. 119 

Ne'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state, 

Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast j 

And won, by rareness, such solemnity. 

The skipping king, he ambled up and down 

With shallow jesters, and rash bavin* wits, 

Soon kindled, and soon burn'd: carded his state; 

Mmgled his royalty with capering fools; 

Had his great name profaned with their scorns 

A.nd gave his countenance against his name, 

ro laugh at gibing boys, and stand the push 

Of every beardless vain comparative:! 

Grew a companion to the common streets, 

Enfeoff 'd+ himself to popularity: 

tThut being dail}'^ swallow'd by men's eyes, 

They surfeited with honey; and began 

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little 

More than a little is by much too much. 

So, Avhen he had occasion to be seen, 

He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 

Heard, not regarded; seen, but with such eyes, 

As, sick and blunted with community, 

Afford no extraordinary gaze, 

iSuch as is bent on sun-like majesty 

Vv^^hen it shines seldom in admiring eyes: 

But rather drowz'd, and hung their eyelids down. 

Slept in his face, and render'd such aspect 

As cloud}^ men use to their adversaries; 

Being with his presence glutted, gorg'd and full. 

i PRINCE henry's modest DEFENCE OF HIMSELF. 

God forgive them, that have so much sw^y'd 

I Your majesty's good thoughts away fronqi me! 

1 will redeem all this on Percy's head. 

And, in the closing of some glorious day. 

Be bold to tell you, that I am your son; 

When I will wear a garment all of blood, 

And stain my favours in a bloody mask, 

Which, wash'd away, shall gcour my shame with it. 

And that shall be the day, w^hene'er it lights, 

That this same child of honour and renown, 

Tlvs gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 

* Brushwood. t Rival. t Possessing. 



12a BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARK 

And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet: 
For every honour sitting on his helm, 
*Would they were multitudes; and on my head 
My shames redoubled ! for the time will come 
That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
Percy is but my factor, good my lord, 
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
And I will call him to so strict account, 
That he shall render every glory up. 
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time, 
Or I will tear the reckoning from his heart. 
This, in the name of God, I promise here: 
The which, if he be pleas'd I shall perform, 
I do beseech your majesty, may salve 
The long-grown wounds of my intemperance: 
If not, the end of life cancels all bands;* 
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths, 
Ere break the smallest parcelf of this vow. 

ACT IV. 

A GALLANT WARRIOR 

I saw young Harry, — with his beaver on, 
His cuisses| on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, — 
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, 
And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, 
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, 
And witch§ the world with noble horsemanship. 
hotspur's impatience for the battle. 

Let them come; 
They come like sacrifices in their trim, 
And to the fire-ey'd maid of smoky Avar, 
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them. 
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit, 
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire, 
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh, 
And yet nort ours: — Come, let me take Doy hrsfiBt 

* Bonds. t Part. t Anrtour. 

§ Bewitch, eharm. 



KING HENRY IV. 121 

Who is to bear mc, like a thunderbolt, 

Against the bosom of the prince of Wales: 

Harr}' to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 

Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a corse, — 

O, that Glendower were come' 

ACT V. 

PRINCE henry's modest CHALLENGE. 

Tell your nephew, 
The prince of Wales doth join with all the world 
In praise of Henry Percy : By my hopes, — 
This present enterprise set off his head, — 
I do not think a braver gentleman, 
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, 
I^Iore darin<^, or move bold, is now alive. 
To grace this latter age with noble deeds. 
For my part I may speak it to my shame, 
I have a truant been to chivalry; 
And so, I hear, he doth accoun{ me too: 
Yet this before my father's majesty, — 
I am content, that he shall take the odds 
Of his great name and estimation; 
And will, to save the blood on either side, 
Try fortune with him in a single tight. 

falstaff's catechism. 
Well, 'tis no matter: Honour pricks me on. Yea, 
but how if honour prick me off when I come on i* 
how then? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an 
arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. 
Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What 
is honour? A word. What is in that word? Honour. 
"W^hat is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning!— 
Who hath it ? He that died o' Wednesday. Doth he 
feel it? No. Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible 
then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the 
living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it: — 
therefore I'll none of it. Honour is a mere escut- 
cheon,* and so ends my catechism. 

* Painted heraldry in funerals. 



122 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

LIFE DEMANDS ACTION. 

O gentlemen, the time of life is short; 
To spend that shortness basely were too long. 
If life did ride upon a dial's point, 
Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 

PRINCE henry's pathetic SPEECH ON THE 
DEATH OF HOTSPUR. 

Brave Percj^ fare thee well. 
Ill weav'd ambition, how much art thou shrunk! 
When that this body did contain a spirit, 
A kingdom for it was too small a bound; 
But now, two paces of the vilest earth 
Is room enough: — This earth, that bears thee dead, 
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
I should not make so dear a show of zeal : 
But let my favours* hide thy mangled face; 
And even, in thy behalf, I'll thank myself 
For doing thee these fair rites of tenderness. 
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven! 
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, 
But not remember'd in thy epitaph! 



KING HENRY IV. 

PART II. 

INDUCTION. 



I, FROM the orient to the drooping west. 
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
The acts commenced on this ball of earth: 
Upon my tongues continual slanders ride; 
The which in every language I pronounce, 
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. 
I speak of peace, while covert enmity, 
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world 

* Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face. 



KING HENRY IV. IM 

And who but Rumour, who but only I, 

Make fearful musters, and prepar'd defence; 

Whilst the big year, swoln with some other grief, 

Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 

And no such matter? Rumour is a pipe 

Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures; 

And of so easy and so plain a stop, 

That the blunt monster with uncounted heads^ 

The still-discordant wavering multitude 

Can play upon it. 

ACT I. 

CONTENTION. 

Contention, like a horse • 

Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, 
And bears down all before him. 

POST MESSENGER. 

After him, came, spurring hard, 
A gentleman almost forespent* with speed, 
That stopp'd by me to breathe his bloodied horse. 
He ask'd the way to Chester; and of him 
I did demand, what news from Shrewsbury. 
He told me, that rebellion had bad luck, 
And that young Harry Percy's spur was cold; 
With that, he gave his able horse the head, 
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels 
Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
Up to the rowel-head; and, starting so. 
He seem'd in running to devour thfe way, 
Staying no longer question. 

MESSENGER WITH ILL NEWS. 

This man's brow, like to a title-leaf, 
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume: 
So looks the strand, whereon the imperious flood 

Hath left a witness'd usurpation.! 

Thou tremblest; and the whiteness in thy cheek 
Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand. 
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 

♦ Exhausted. t An attestation of its ravage. 



124 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

So dull, so dead in look, so wo-begone, 

Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, 

And would have told him, half his Troy was 

burn'd. — 
I see a strange confession in thine eye, 
Thou shak'st thy head, and hold'st it fear, or sin, 
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so: 
The tongue oftends not that reports his death; 
And he doth sin that does belie the dead; 
Not he, which says the dead is not alive. 
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
Hath but a losing office; and his tongue 
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
Remember'd knoUing a departing friend. 

GEEATER GRIEFS DESTROV THE LESS. 

As the wretch, whose fever-weaken'd joints, 
Like strengthless hinges buckle under life, 
Impatient of his lit, breaks like a fire 
Out of his keeper's arms; even so ray limbs, 
Weaken'd with grief, being now enrag'd with grief, 
Are thrice themselves: hence therefore, thou nice* 

crutch; 
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel, 
Must glove this hand: and hence, thou sickly quoif,t 
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head. 
Which princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit 
Now bind my brows with iron; and approach 
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare bring, 
To frown upon the enrag'd Northumberland! 
Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not nature's hand 
Keep the wild flood confin'd! let order die! 
And let this world no longer be a stage, 
To feed contention in a lingering act; 
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain 
Reign in all bosoms, that, each heart being set 
On bloody courses, the rude scene may end, 
And darkness be the burier of the dead. 

THE FICKLENESS OF THE VULGAR. 

An habitation giddy and unsure 
Hath be, that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
* Trifling. t Cap. 



KING HENRY IV. 125 

O thou fond many !* with what loud applause 
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Bolingbroke, 
Before he was what thou would'st have him be? 
And being now trimm'df in thine own desires. 
Thou, beastly feeder, art so full of him, 
That thou provok'st thyself to cast him up. 



ACT III. 

APOSTROPHE TO SLEEP, 

Sleep, gentle sleep, 
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, 
That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down, 
And steep my senses in forgetfulness? 
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, 
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, 
And hush'd with buzzing night-flies to thy slumber* 
Than in the perfum'd chambers of the great, 
Under the canopies of costly state. 
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest melody. 
P thou dull god, why liest thou with the vile. 
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly couch, 
A watch-case, or a common 'iaurum bell? 
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
In cradle of the rude imperious surge; 
And in the visitation of the winds, 
Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them 
With deaf 'ning clamours in the slippery clouds. 
That, vvulh the hurly,+ death itself awakes? 
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose 
To the wet sea-boy, in an hour so rude; 
And, in the calmest and most stillest night. 
With all appliances, and means to boot. 
Deny it to a king? 

* Multitude. t Dressed. t Noiso. 

11* 



126 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT IV. 

THE CHARACTER OF KING HENRY V. BY HIS FATHER. 

He is gracious, if he be observ'd;* 
He hath a tear for pit}"^, and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity: 
Yet notwithstanding, being incens'd, he's flintj 
As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
As flaws congealed in the spring of da*. 
His temper, therefore, must be w-ell observ'd: 
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth: 
But, being moody, give him line and scope; 
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground. 
Confound themselves with working. 

ON FORTUNE. 

Will fortune never come with both liands full 
But Avrite her fair words still in foulest letters^ 
She either gives a stomach, and no food, — 
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast, 
And takes away the stomach, — such are the ricl^j 
That have abundance, and enjoy it not. 

REFLECTIONS ON A CROWN. 

polish'd perturbation! golden care! 
That keep'st the portsj of slumber open wide 
To many a watchful night! — sleep with it now! 
Yet not so sound, and half so deeply sweet, 

As he, whose brow, with homely biggin^ bound, 
Snores out the watch of night. O majesty! 
When thou dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, 
That scalds with safety. 

REFLECTIONS ON GOLD. 

How quickly nature falls into revolt, 
When gold becomes her object! 
For this the foolish over-careful fathers 

*Has an attention shown him. 

1 Gates. t Cap. 



KING HENRY IV. 1*7 

Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains 

with care, 
Their bones with industry; 
For this they have engrossed and piled up 
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold; 
For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises: 
When, like the bee, tolling* from every flower 
The virtuous sweets; 

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honej. 
We bring it to the hive; and, like the bees, 
Are murder'd for our pains. 

SCENE BETWEEN PRINCE HENRY AND HIS FATHER. 

Come hither to me, Harry: — 
•Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 

F. lieji. I never thought to hear you speak again. 

K. Ren. Thy wish was farther, Harry, to that 
thought: 
f stay too long by thee, I weary thee. 
Dost thou so hunger for my empty chair, 
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine honours 
Before thy hour be ripe? foolish youth! 
Thou seek'st the greatness that will overwhelm thee. 
Stay but a little; for mv cloud of dignity 
Is held from falling with so weak a wind, 
That it will quickly drop: my day is dim. 
Thou hast stol'n that, which, after some few hours, 
Were thine without offence; and, at my death, 
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation:! 
Thy life did manifest, thou lov'dst me not, 
And thou wilt have me die assured of it. 
Thou hid'st a thousand daggers in thy thoughts: 
Whic!< thou hast whetted on thy stony heart. 
To stab at half an hour of my life. 
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? 
Then get thee gone; and dig my grave thyselfj 
And bid the nierry bells ring to thine ear. 
That thou art crowned, not that I am dead. 
Let all the tears that should bedew ray hearse, 

♦Taking toll. t Confirmcd'my opinion. 



1T$ BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPfiARE. 

Be drops of balm, to sanctify thy head : 

Only compound me with forgotten dust; , 

Give that, which gave thee life, unto the worms. I 

Pluck down my officers, break my decrees; 

For now a time is come to mock at form, 

Harry the fifth is crown'd: — Up, vanity! 

Down, royal state! all you sage counsellors, hence 

And to the English court assemble now. 

From every region, apes of idleness! , 

Now, neighbour confines, purge you of your of scum: 

Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, dance, ! 

Revel the night; rob, murder, and commit ' 

The oldest sins the newest kind of ways? V 

Be happy, he will trouble you no more; I 

England shall double gild his treble guilt; ' 

England shall give him office, honour, might; 

For the fifth Harry from curb'd licence plucks 

The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 

Shall ilesh his tooth in every innocent. 

my poor kingdom, sick with civil blov/s! 
When that my care could not withhold thy riots, 
What wilt thou do, when riot is thy care? .J 
0, thou wilt be a wilderness aga'n, m 
Peopled with wolves, thy old inhabitants! 

F. Hen. O, pardon me, my liege ! but for my tears, 

[Kneeling. 
The moist impediments unto my speech, 

1 had forestall'd this dear and deep rebuke. 
Ere 3'ou with grief had spoke, and I had heard 
The course of it so far. There is your crown 
And He that wears the crown immortally, 
Long guard it yours! If I affect it more, 
Than as yonr honour, and as your renown, 
Let me uo more from this obedience rise, 
(Which my most true and inward-duteous spirit 
Teacheth) this prostrate and exterior bending! 
Heaven witness with me, when I here came in, 
And found no course of breath within your majesty. 
How cold it struck my heart! if I do feign, 

O, let me in my present wildness die; 

And never live to show the incredulous world 



KING HENRY IV. 12» 

The noble cliange that I have purposed ! 

Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 

(And dead almost, my liege, to tliink you were,) 

I spake unto the crown as having sense. 

And thus upbraided it. The care on thee depending^y 

Hath fed upon the body of my father ; 

'Therefore, thou best of gold, art worst of gold ^ 

Other, less fine in carat,* is more precious ^ 

Preserving life in medicine potable :^ 

But thou, most fine, most honoured, most renown'' d, 

Hast eat thy 'bearer up. Thus, my most royaJ liege. 

Accusing it, 1 put it on my head; 

To try mth it, — as with an enemy, 

That had before my face murder'd my father, — 

The quarrel of a true inheritor. 

But if it did infect my blood with joy. 

Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride; 

If any rebel or vain spirit of mine 

Did with the least affection of a welcome, 

Give entertainment to the might of it. 

Let God for ever keep it from my head! 

And make me as the poorest vassal is. 

That doth with awe and terror kneel to it I 

K. Hen, O my son ! 
Heaven put it in thy mind, to take it hence, 
That thou might'st win the more thy father's love, 
Pleadino; so wisely in excuse of it. 
Come hither, Harry, sit thou by my bed; 
And hear, I think, the very latest counsel 
That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, my son. 
By what by-paths, and indirect crook'd ways, 
I met this crown; and I myself knovf well, 
How troublesome it sat upon my head; 
To thee it shall descend v/ith better quiet, 
Better opinion, better confirmation; 
For all the soil:{: of the achievement goes 
With me into the earth. It seem'd in me. 
But as an honour snatch'd with boisterous hand: 
And I had many living to upbraid 
My gain of it by their assistances; 

* Weight. t To be taken. t Spot, dirt. 



180 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Which daily grew to quarrel and to bloodshed, 
Wounding supposed peace: all these bold fears. 
Thou see'st, with peril I have answered: 
For all my reign hath been but as a scene 
Acting that argument; and now my death 
Changes the mode if for what in me was purchas'djj 
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort; 
So thou the garland wear'st successively. 
Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I could do, i 
Thou art not firm enough, since griefs are green; \ 
And all thy friends, which thou must make thy ' 
friends, . 

Have but their stings and teeth ncAvly ta'en out; 1 
By whose fell working I was first advanc'd. 
And by whose power I well might lodge a fear 
To be again displac'd; which to avoid, 
I cut them off; and had a purpose now 
To lead out many to the Holy Land; 
Lest rest, and lying still, might make them look 
Too near unto my state. Therefore, my Harry, 
Be it thy course, to busy giddy minds 
With foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne out, 
May waste the memory of the former days. 
More would I, but my lungs are wasted so, 
That strength of speech is utterly denied me. 
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive! 
And grant it may with thee in true peace live! 

P. Hen. My gracious liege, 
You won it, wore it, kept, gave it me; 
Then plain, and right must my possession be: 
Which I, with more than with a common pain, 
'Gainst all the world will rightfully maintain. 

ACT V 

ADDRESS OF THE CHIEF JUSTICE TO KING HENRY V. 
WHOM HE HAD IMPRISONED. 

If the deed were ill. 
Be you contented, y/earing now the garland,§ 

* Frights. t State of things, 

t Purchase, in Shakspeare, frequently means stolen 
goods. § Crown. 



KING HENRY V. ISl 

To have a son set your decrees at naught; 
To pluck clown justice from your awful bench; 
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword 
That guards the peace and safety of your person; 
Nay, more; to spurn at your most royal image, 
And mock your workings in a second body.* 
Question your royal thoughts, make the case yours; 
Be now the father, and propose a son; 
Hear your own dignity so much profan'd. 
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
Behold yourself so by a son disdained; 
And then imagine me taking your part, 
And, in your poAver, soft silencing your son. 



KING HENRY V. 



CHORUS. 



INVOCATION TO THE MUSE. 

0, FOR a muse of fire, that w^ould ascend 
The brightest heaven of invention! 
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act. 
And monarchs to behold the swelling scene! 
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, 
Assume the port of Mars; and, at his heels, 
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, SAVord, and fire 
Crouch for employment. 

ACT I. 

CONSIDERATION. 

Consideration like an angel came. 
And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him: 
Leaving his body as a paradise. 
To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 

PERFECTIONS OF KING HENRY V. 

i Hear him but reason in divinity, 

And, all-admiring, with an inward wish 

lYou would desire the king were made a prelate: 

[Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 

* Treat wit!i contempt your acts executed by a re- 
presentative. 



182 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

You would say, — it had been all-in-all his study: 
List* his discourse of war, and you shall hear 
A fearful battle render'd you in music; 
Turn him to any cause of policy, 
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose. 
Familiar as his garter; that when he speaks. 
The air, a charter'd libertine, is still. 
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears. 
To steal his sweet and honeyed sentences. 

THE COMMONWEALTH OF BEES. 

So work the honey bees; 
Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach 
The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
They have a king, and officers of sortsrf 
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home; 
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad; 
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, 
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; 
Which pillage they with merry march bring home 
To the tent-royal of their emperor: 
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
The singing masons building roofs of gold; 
The civil+ citizens kneading up the honey; 
The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
Their heavy burdens at his narrrow gate; 
The sad-ey^d justice, with his surly hum, 
Delivering o'er to the executors§ pale 
The lazy yawning drone. 

ACT II. 
CHORUS. 

WARLIKE SPIRIT. 

Now all the youth of England are on fire, 
And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies; 
Now thrive the armourers, and honour's thought 
Reigns solely in the breast of every man : 
They sell the pasture now, to buy the horse; 
Following the mirror of all Christian kings, 

* Listen to. f Different degrees. 

:| Sober, grav«. § E:fec«f ioners. 



KING HENRY V. IM 

With vpinged heels, as English Mercuries. 
For now sits Expectation in the air; 
And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point, 
With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets, 
Promis'd to Harry, and his followers. 

APOSTROPHE TO ENGLAND. 

O England! — model to thy inward greatness, 
Like little body with a mighty heart, — 
What might's! thou do, that honour would thee da. 
Were all thy children kind and natural! 
But see thy fault! France hath in thee found out 
A nest of hollow bosoms, which he* fills 
With treacherous crowns. 

FALSE APPEARANCES. 

O, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
The sweetness of affiance! Show men dutiful.'' 
Why, so didst thou: Seem they grave and learned.^ 
Why, so didst thou: Come they of noble family.^ 
Why, so didst thou: Seem they religious.'* 
Why, so didsi Ahou: Or are they spare in diet; 
Free from gross passion, or of mirth, or anger; 
Constant in spirit, not swerving with the blood; 
Garnish'd and deck'd in modest complement ;t 
Not working with the eye, without the ear. 
And, but in purged judgment, trusting neither .'* 
Such, and so. finely bolted, | didst thou seem: 
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot. 
To mark the full-fraught man, and best indued, § 
With some suspicion. 

DAME Q,UICKLY'S ACCOUNT OF FALSTAFF'S DEATH. 

*A made a finer end, and went away, an it had 
been any christom|| child; 'a parted even just between 
twelve and one, e'en at turning o' the tide; for after 
I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with 
flowers, and smile upon his lingers' ends, I knew 
there was but one way; for his nose was as sharp as a 

* i. c. The king of France, t Accomplishment. 
i Sifted. § Endowed 

* A eluld not mor« than o m«nth «l«l. 

12 



134 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

pen, and 'a babbled of green fields. How now, Sii 
John? quoth I: what, man ! be of good cheer. So 'a 
cried out — God, God, God ! three or four times: now I, 
to comfort him, bid him, 'a should not think of God; 
I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with 
any such thoughts yet: So, 'a bade me lay more 
clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed, and 
felt them, and they Avere as cold as any stone. 

KING henry's character BY THE CONSTABLE OF 
TRANCE. 

You are too much mistaken in this king: 
Question your grace the late ambassadors, — 
With what great state he heard their embassy. 
How well supplied with noble counsellors, 
How modest in exception,* and withal, 
How terrible in constant resolution, — 
And you shall find his vanities forespentf 
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, 
Covering discretion with a coat of folly; 
As gardeners do with ordure hide those roots 
That shall first spring, and be most delicate. 



ACT III. 
CHORUS. 



Suppose that you have seen 
The well-appointed king at Hampton pier 
Embark his royalty; and his brave fleet 
With silken streamers the j^oung Phcebus fanning, 
Play with your fancies; and in them behold, 
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbing: 
Hear the shrill whistle, which doth ^rder give 
To sounds confus'd; behold the threaden sails. 
Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, 
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrowed sea, 
Breasting the lofty surge. 

♦ In making objections. t Waotedj exhaueted.^ 



KING HENRY V. 186 

ACT IV. 

CHORUS. 

DESCRIPTION OF NIGHT IN A CAMP. 

From camp to camp, through the foul womb 
of night, 
The hum of either army stilly* sounds, 
That the iix'd sentinels ahiiost receive 
The secret whispers of each other's watch: 
Fire answers fire, and though their paly flames 
Each battle sees the other's umber'df face: 
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighs 
Piercing the night's dull ear; and from the tents, 
The arm-ourers, accomplishing the knights. 
With busy hamniers closing rivets up. 
Give dreadful note of preparation. 
The country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll, 
And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul, 
The confident and over-lustyf French 
Do the low-rated Ernglish play at dice; 
And chide the cripple tardy-gaited night, 
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, doth limp 
So tediously aw?.y. The poor condemned EnglisL 
Like sacriJices, by their watchful fires 
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 
The morning's danger; and their gesture sad, 
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and w^ar-worn coats, 
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 
So many horrid ghosts. O, nov;, who will behold 
The royal captain of tliis ruin'd band, 
Walking from walch to watch, fiora tent to tent, 
Let him cry — Praise and g'ory on his head! 
For forth he goes, and visits all his host; 
Bids them good morro^v, with a modest smile; 
And calls them — brothers, friends, and countrymen. 
Upon his royal face there is no note. 
How dread an army hath enrounded him; 

* Gently, lowly. 

t Discoloured by the gleam of the fires. 

:}: Over-saucy. 



136 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour 
Unto the weary and all-watched night: 
But freshly looks, and overbears attaint, 
With cheerful semblance, and sweet majesty; 
That every wretch, pining and pale before, 
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks: 
A largess universal, like the sun. 
His liberal eye doth give to every one, 
Thawing cold fear. 

Enter Bates, Court, and Williams. 
Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the morning 



which breaks yonde 

Bates. I think it be: but we have no great cause to 
desire the approach of day. 

Will. We see yonder the beginning of the day, 
but I think, we shall never see the end of it. — Who 
goes there.'' 

K. Hen. A friend. 

TVill. Under what captain serve you? 

K. Hen. Under Sir Thomas Erpingham. 

Will. A good old commander, and a most kind 
gentleman: I pray you what thinks he of our estate? 

K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a sand, that 
look to be washed off the next tide. 

Bates. He hath not told his thought to the king? 

K. Hen. No; nor it is not meet he should. For, 
though I speak it to you, I tliink, the king is but a 
man, as I am: the violet smells to him, as it doth to 
me; the element shows to him, as it doth to mc; all 
his senses have but human conditions:* his ceremo- 
nies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man: 
and though his affections are hi<i;her mounted than 
ours, yet when they stoop, they stoop with the like 
wings; therefore, when he sees reason of fears, as we 
do, his fears, out of doubt, be of the same relish as 
ours are: Yet, in reason, no man should possess him 
with any appearance of fear, lest he, by shovring it, 
should dishearten his army. 

Bates. He may show what outward courage he 
will: but I believe, as cold a night as 'tis, he could 

* Qualities. 



KING HENRY V. 137 

wish himself in the Thames up to the neck; and so I 
would he were, and I by him, at all adventures, so 
we were quit here. * 

K. Hen. By my troth, I will speak my conscience 
of the king; I think, he would not wish himself any 
where but where he is. 

Bates. Then, 'would he were here alone; so should 
he be sure to be ransomed, and many poor men's 
lives saved. 

K. Hen. I dare say, j^ou love him not so ill, to w^ish 
him here, alone; howsoever you speak this, to feel 
other men's minds: Methinks, I could not die any 
where so contented, as in the king's company: his 
cause being just, and his quarrel honourable. 

Will. Tha.t's more than we know. 

Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek after; for 
we know enough, if we know we are the king's sub- 
jects; if his cause be wrong, our obedience to the 
king wipes the crime of it out of us. 

IVill. But if the cause be not good, the king him- 
self hath a heavy reckoning to make; when all those 
legs, and arms, and heads chopped off in a battle 
shall join together at the latter day,* and cry all — 
We died at such a place; some, swearing- some, cry- 
ing for a surgeon; some, upon their wives left poor 
behind them; some, upon the debts they owe; some, 
upon their children rawly f left. I am afeard there 
are few die well, that die in battle; for how can they 
charitably dispose of any thing, when blood is their 
argument? Now, if these men do not die well, it will 
be a black matter for the king that led them to it; 
whom to disobey, were against all proportion of sub 
jection. 

K. Hen. So, if a son, that is by his father sent about 
merchandise, do sinfully miscarry upon the sea, the 
imputation of his wickedness, by your rule, should 
be imposed upon his father that sent him: or if a 
servant, under his master's command, transporting 
a sum of money, be assailed by robbers, and die in 
many irreconciied iniquities, you may call the busi- 

* The last dav, the cLiy of judcnicnt. t Suddenly. 



1»8 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ness of the master the author of the servant's damna- 
tion: — But this is not so: the king is not bound to 
answer the particular endings of his soldiers, the fa- 
ther of his son, nor the master of his servant; for 
they purpose not their death, when they purpose their 
services. Besides, there is no king, be his cause ne- 
ver so spotless, if it come to the arbitrement of swords, 
can try it out w^ith all unspotted soldiers. Some, per- 
adventure, have on them the guilt of premeditated 
and contrived murder; some, of beguiling virgins 
with the broken seals of perjury; some, making the 
wars their bulwark, that have before gored the 
gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. Now, 
if these men have defeated the law, and outrun na- 
tive punishment,* though they can outstrip men, they 
have no wings to fly from God: war is his beadle, 
war is his vengeance; so that here men are punish- 
ed, for before breach of the king's laws, in no\v the 
king's quarrel: where they feared the death, they 
have borne life aw^ay; and where they would be safe, 
they perish: Then ifthej^die unprovided, no more is 
the king guilty of their damnation, than he Avas be- 
fore guiUy of those impieties for the which they are 
now visited. Every subject's duty is the king's: but 
every subject's soul is his own. Thcreibrc should 
every soldier in the wars do as every sick man in his 
bed, wash every mote out of his conscience; and dy- 
ing so, death is to him advantage; or not dying, the 
time was blessedly lost, wherein such preparations 
uas gained: and in him that escapes, it were not sin 
to think, that making God so free an offer, he let him 
outlive that day to see his greatness, and to teach 
others how they should prepare. 

i'Vill. 'Tis certain, every man that diesill^ the ill 
is upon his own head, the king is not to answ^er for it, 

THE MISERIES OF ROYALTY. 

hard condition ! twin-born with greatness 
Subjected to the breath of every fool. 
Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing! 
What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, 

* i t. Pimiehment in tk«ir native connlrv. 



KING HENRY T. ISt 

That private men enjoy? 

And what have kings, that privates have not too 
Save ceremony, save general ceremony? 
And what art thou, thou idol ceremony? 
What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more 
Of mortal griefs, then do thy worshippers? 
What are ihy rents? v,hat are thy comings-in? 

ceremony, show me but thy worth! 
What is the soal of adoration?* 

Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, 

Creating awe and fear in other men? 

Wherein thou art less happy being fear'd 

Than they in fearing. 

What drink'stthou oft, instead of homage sweer,, 

But poison'd flattery? 0, be sick, great greatness^ 

And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! 

Think'stthou the fiery fever will go out 

With titles blown from adulation? 

Will it give place to flexure and low bending? 

CanF.t thou, when thou command'st the beggar's knee, 

Command the health of it! No, thou proud draain. 

That play'st so subtly with a king\s repose: 

1 am a king, that find thee: and I knov/, 
'Tis not the balm, the sccpxre, and the ball; 
The sword, X'm mace, the crov;n imperiai, 
The enter-tissued robe of gchi and pearl, 
The farccdf title running fore the king, 
The throise he sits on, nor the tide of pomp, 
That beats upon the high whore of this world, 
No, not all these thrice gorgeous ceremony, 
Not all those laid in bed majestical. 

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave; 
Who, with a body iVil'd, and vacant mind, 
Gets him to re?!, VrammM with distressful breadj 
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell j 
I)at, like a lacky, from the rise to set, 
Sweats in the eye of Phcehu?, and all night 

^■'- '* What is the real worth and intrinsic value of fidora- 
tion?" 

t Farced is str-iled. The tumid puvly Ldes wich w'mck 
a king's name is introdiic-sd 



140 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Sleeps in Elysium; next day, after dawn, 
Doth rise, and help Hyperion* to his horse; 
And follows so the ever-running year 
With profitable labour, to his grave : 
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch. 
Winding up days with toil, and nights with sleep. 
Had the fore hand and 'vantage of a king. 

D£SCRIPTIOJr OF THE MISERABLE STATE OF THE 
ENGLISH ARMY. 

Yon island's carrions, desperate of their bones, 
Ill-favour'dly become the morning field: 
Their rago-ed curtainsf poorly are let loose. 
And our air shakes them passing scornfully. 
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host. 
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. 
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, 
With torch-staves in their hand: and the poor jades 
Lob doAvn their heads, dropping the hides and hips; 
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes, 
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal;}: bit 
Ivies foul with chew'd grass still and motionless; 
And their executors, the knavish crows, 
Fly o'er tlieiTi all, impatient for their hour. 

visa hekp.t's speech before the battle or agiw- 

COURT. 

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, f 
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd, 
And rour^e him at the name of Crispian. 
TTo, that shall live this day, and see old age. 
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, 
j^.,nd say — !o-morrow is Saint Crispian: 
Th«n will h'?. strip his sleeve and show his scars, 
And fir.y, these wounds I had on Crispian's day. 
Old mr-n forget: yet all shall bo forgot, 
But he'll remember, with advantages, 
What fonts he did that day: Then shall our names, 
^''amiliar in their mouths as household words, — 
Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter, 

* The siin. t Colours. t Ring- 



KING HENRY V. 141 

Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, — 
Be in their flowing cups- freshly remember'd. 

DESCRIPTION OF THE DUEE OF YORK'S 
DEATH. 

He sinil'd mo in the face, raught* rae his hand, 
And, with a feeble gripe, says, — Dear my lord, 
Commend my service to my sovereign. 
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck 
He threw his wounded arni, and kissM his lips; 
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd 
A testament of noble-ending love. 
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd 
Those waters from me, which I would have Btopp'dj 
But I had not so much of man in me. 
But all my mother came into mine eyes, 
And gave me up to tears. 



ACT V. 

THE MISERIES OF WAR. 

Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
Unpruned dies: her hedges even-pleached,— 
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair. 
Put forth disorder'd twigs: her fallow leas 
The darnal, hemlock, and rank fumitory, 
Doth root upon; while that the coulterf rusts. 
That should deracinate:^: such savagery: 
The, even mead, that erst brought-sweetly forth 
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, 
Vv'antins; the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, 
('onceives by idleness; and nothing teems, 
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burt, 
Losing both beauty and utility. 
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges 
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness. 

* RcHched. 

t Ploughshare. 

t To deracinate is to forcd up tJte ro«t«. 



142 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE, 



KING HENRY VI. 



ACT I. 

« GLORY. 

GLORY is like a circle in the water, 
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, 
Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 



ACT V. 

MARRIAGE. 

Marriage is a matter of more worth 
Than to be dealt in b}^ attorneyship.* 

* * * * # 

For what is wedlock forced, but a hell, 
An age of discord and continual strife .'' 
Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss, 
And is a pattern of celestial peace. 



KING HENRY VI. 

PART II. 

ACT I. 

A RESOLVED AND A5IBITI0US WOMAN. 

FOLLOAV I must, I cannot go before, 
While Gloster bears this base and humble mind. 
Were I a rr.'tn, a duke, and next of blood, 
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks, 
And smoolh ray way upon their headless necks; 
And, being a v/oman, I will not be slack 
To play r:\y part in fortune's pageant. 

• Bv ;hg discretional aijencv of another 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI UJ 

ACT II. 

god's goodness ever to be remembered. 
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, 
Bat still remember what the Lord hath done. 

THE DUCHESS OF GLOSTER'S REMO.XSTRANCE TO HER 
HUSBAND WHEN DOING PENANCE. 

For, whilst I think I am thy married wife, 
And, thou a prince, protector of this land, 
Methinksj I should not thus be led along, 
MaiI'd up in shame,* with papers on my back; 
And followed with a rabble, that rejoice 
To see my tears, and hear my deep-feltf groans. 
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet; 
And, when I start, the envious people laugh. 
And bid me be advised how I tread. 

ACT III. 

I SILENT RESENTMENT DDEPEST. 

Smooth runs the water, where the brook is deep; 
land in his simple show he harbours treason. 

i A GUILTY COUNTENANCE. 

^ Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny 
5its in grim majesty, to fright the world. 

DESCRIPTION OF A MURDERED PERSON. 

Sge, how the blood is settled in his fxce! 
3ft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, + 
3f ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, 
Being all descended to the labouring heart; 
Vho, in the conflict that it holds with death, 
Utracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy; 
'Vhich with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth 
To blush and beautify the cheek again. 

* Wrapped up in disgrace; alluding to the sheet of 
lenance- 

t Dtjep-fetched. 

X A body becoras manmate in the comnioa Morss of 
aturc; to which violence has hof. brought a timeleas end 



144 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE, 

But, sec, his face is black, and full of blood: 
His eyeballs further out than when he liv'd, 
Staring full ghastly, like a strangled man: [gling; 
His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with strug- 
His hands abroad display 'd, as one that grasp'd 
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd. 
Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking: 
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged, 
Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd. 
It cannot be, but he was murder'd here: 
The least of all these signs were probable. 

A GOOD CONSCIENCE. 

What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted. 
Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just; 
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel. 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 

REMORSELESS HATRED. 

A })lague upon them! Wherefore should I curse 
them? 
Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, 
I w^ould invent as bitter-searching terms, 
As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, • 
Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, 
With full as many signs of deadly hate, 
As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave: 
My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words: 
IVfine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint: 
My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract: 
Ay, eveiy joint should seem to curse and ban: 
And even now my burden'd heart would break, 
Sliould I not curse them. Poison be their drink! 
Gall, v.'orse than gall, the daintiest that they taste! 
Their sweeteit shade, a grove of Cyprus trees! 
Their chicfest prospect, murdering basilisks! 
Their softest tou.:;h, as smart as lizards' stings! 
Their music, fiijhirui ?.s the serpent's hiss; 
And boding screech-owls make the concert full! 
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell. 

Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, 
Well couW I eurfe away a winter's night. 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 146 

Though standing naked on a mountain top, 
Where biting cold would never let grass grow. 

PARTING LOVERS. 

And banished I am, if but from thee. 
Gc, speak not lo me; even now be gone. — 
O, go not yet! — Even thus two friends condemned 
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, 
Lother a hundred times to part than die. 
Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee! 

Siif. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, 
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee. 
'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence; 
A wilderness is populous enough. 
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company: 
For where thou art, there is the world itself, 
With every several pleasure in the world; 
And where thou art not, desolation. 

DYING WITH THE PERSON BELOVED PREFERABLE TO 
PARTING. 

If I depart from thee, I cannot live: 
And in thy sight to die, what were it else, 
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? 
Here could I breathe my soul into the air, 
As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe. 
Dying with the mother's dug between its lips. 

THE DEATH-BED HORRORS OF A GUILTY CONSCIENCE. 

Bring me unto my trial when you will. 
Died he not in his bed? where should he die? 
Can 1 make men live, whe'rthey vvill or no.^— ^ 
O! torture me no niore, I will»confess. — 
Alive again? then shoij' me where he is; 
I'll give a thousand pound to look uj)on liim, — 
He hnth no eyes, the dust hath blinded them, — 
Comb down his hair; look! look! it stands upright 
Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged 8oul!-^- 
Give rae some drink; and bid the apothecary 
Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 

13 



I4« BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAilE, 

ACT IV. 



The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful* day 
Is crept into the bosom of the sea; 
And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
ThiSit drag the tragic melancholy night; 
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings 
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws 
Drealhe foul contagious darkness in the air. 

KENT. 

Kent, in the commentaries Cesar Avrit, 
fs tcruiM the civil'st place of all this isle: 
Sweet is the country, because full of riclies; 
The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy. 

LORD say's APOLOGY VGR HIMSELF. 

Justice with favour have I always done; 
Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never. i 
"\Vben have I aught exacted at your hands, ^ 

Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and 5'^our 1 

.Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, 
i>e<.T:.u.se my book preferred me to the king; 
And — seeing ignorance is the cui'-se of God, 
Knowledge the wing v^herevvith we Hy to heaven,— 
Unless you be possess'd with dev'lish spirits, 
You cannot but forbear to murder me. 

KING HENRY VI. 

PART III. 

ACT 1.* 

THL TRA^^fSPORTS OP A CROVVW, 

Do but think, 

3 Tow sweet a thing it is to wear a crown j 

Wiihin whose circuit is Elysium, 

Ai;d all that poets feign of bliss and joy. 

=^- Pitiful 



THIRD PART OF HENRY VI. U7 

A HUNGRY LION. 

So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch 
That trembles under his devouring paws: 
And so he walks, insultino; o'er his prey; 
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. 

THE DUKE OF YORK ON THE GALLANT BEHAVIOUR 

*F HIS SONS. 

My sons — God knows what hath bechanced them: 

But this I know, — they have demeaned themselves 

Like men born to renown, by life, or death. 

Three times did Richard make ?^ :anc to me; 

And thrice crisJ, — Courage, faths)! Jight it out. 

And full as oft came Edvvard to my side, 

With purple falchion, painted to the hilt 

In blood of those that had encountr'd him; 

And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 

Richard cried — Charge! and give no foot of ground. 

And cried, — .,3 Crown, or else a glorious tomb! 

Ji sccpire, (yr an earthly sepulchre! 

With this, we charg'd again; but out, alas! 

We. borlg'd* again; as I have seen a swan 

With bootless labours swim against the tide, 

And spend her strength Avith over-matching waves. 

A TATHER'S PASSION ON THE MURDER OF A FAVOURITE 
CHILD. 

0, tygcr's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide I 
How could'^t thou drain the life-blood of the child, 
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, 
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face.'* 
Women are sof"., mild, pitiful, and flexible; 
Thou stern, obdurate, llint}^ rough, remorseless. 
* » » # * 

That face cf his the hungry cannibals [blood: 

Woul i not have tonch'd, would not have stain'd with 
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, — 
O, ten times; more, — than tygcrs of Hyrcania. 
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: 
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet bor. 

- * i. e. We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of cu 
attempt to rally. 



148 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And I with tears do wash the blood away. 
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: 
And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, 
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; 
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears; 
And say, — Alas, it was a piteous deed ! 

ACT IL 

THE DUKE OF YORK IN BATTLE. 

Methought, he bore him* in the thickest troop, 
As doth a lion in a herd of neat;t 
Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; 
Who having pinch'd a fcAV, and m.ade them cry. 
The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 

MORNING. 

See, how the morning opes her golden gates, 
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun !+ 
How well resembles it the prime of youth, 
Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love I 

THE morning's r>AWN. 

This battle fares like to the morning's war. 
When dying clouds contend with growing light; 
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
Can neither call it perfect day, or night. 

THE BLESSINGS OF A SHEPHERD'S LIFE. 

O God! methinks, it were a happy life. 
To be no better than a homeh'^ swain; 
To sit upon a hill, as I do now, 
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
Thereby to see the minutes how they run: 
How many make the hour full complete, 
How many hours bring about the day, 
How many days will finish up the year, 
How many years a mortal man may live. 
When this is known, then to divide the times: 
So many hours must I tend my flock; 

* Demeaned himself, t Neat cattle, cows, oxen, &c. 
t Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sun, when 
nhe diamisses him to his diurnal course. 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY YL 14$ 

So many hours must I take my rest; 

So many hours must I contemplate; 

So many hours must I sport myself; 

So many days my ewes nave been with young; 

So many weeks ere the poor .fools will yean; 

So many years ere I shall sheer the fleece: 

So minuteS; hours, days, weeks, months, and years, 

Puss'd over to the end they were created, 

Would bring; white hairs unto a quiet g;rave. 

Ah, what a life were this! how sweet ! how loTely ! 

Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter rhade 

To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 

Than doth a rich embroidered canopy 

To kino:;s, that fear their subjects' treachery ? 

O, yes it doth: a thousand fold it doth. 

And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds. 

His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 

His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 

All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 

Is far beyond a prince's delicates, 

His viands sparkling in a golden cup, 

His body couched in a curious bed, 

When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him. 



ACT Hi. 

:ko stability is a mob. 
Look, as I blow this feather from my face, 
And as the air blows it to me again. 
Obeying; with my wind when I do blow, 
And yielding; to another when it blow^s, 
Commanded always by the greater gust; 
Such is the likeness of you common men. 

A SIMIJ E ON AMBITIOUS THOUGHTS. 

Why, then I do but dream on sovereignly; 
Like one that stands noon a promontory, 
And spies a far-oif shore where lie would tread. 
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; 
And chides the sea that snnders him from thence 
Saving — he'll lade it drv to have his way. 
13^ 



150 BEAUTIES or SHAKSPEARE. 

oldster's deformity. 
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womh: 
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws 
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe 
To shrink mine arm up like a withered shrub; 
To make an envious mountain on my back, 
Where sits deformity to mock my body; 
To shape my legs of an unequal size; 
To disproportion me in every part, 
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear whelp, 
That carries no impression like the dam. 
And am I then a man to be belov'd? 

gloster's dissimulation. 
"Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; 
.A.nd cry, content, to that which grieves my heart; 
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 
And frame my face to all occasions. 
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; 
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; 
I'D play the orator as well as Nestor, 
Deceive more slily tlyn Ulysses could 
And, like a Sinon,tau'j another Troy; 
I can add colours to the chameleon; 
Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages, 
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school. 
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown.'* 



ACT IV. 

RENRT VI. ON HIS OW^N LENITY. 

I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands. 
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; 
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, 
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, 
My mercy dry'd their water-fiovving tears: 
I have not been desirous of their wealth, 
Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies. 
Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd. 



THIRD PART OF JCING HENRY VI. 15i 
ACT V. 

DYING SPEECH OF THE EARL OF WARWICK. 

Ah who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe, 
And tell me, Avho is victor, York, or Warwick? 
Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, 
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows 
That I must yield my body to the earth, 
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. 
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge. 
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, 
Under whose shade the'ramping lion slept! 
Whose top-branch over-peer'd Jove's spreading tree, 
And kept low shrubs from^winter's powerful wind. 
These eye?, that now are dimm'd with death's black 

veil, 
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, 
To search the secret treasons of the world : 
The wrinkles in my brovv^s, now fill'd with blood. 
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; 
For who liv'd kinrr, but ! could dig his grave? 
And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow? 
Lo, nov/ my glory smcar'd in dust and blood! 
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, 
Even now forsake me: and, of all my lands, 
fs nothing left me, but my body's length ! 

t^uEEN Margaret's speech before the battle of 

TEWKSBURY. 

Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say 
My tears gainsay;* for ever}'' word I speak. 
Ye see, I arink the water of mine eyes. 
Therefore, no more but this:T— Henr}', your sove- 
reign, 
Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd. 
His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, 
His statutes canscll'd, and his treasure spent; 
And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil. 
You fight in justice: then, in God's name^ lords, 
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight. 

* Unsay, deny. 



152 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPE.iRE. 

OMENS ON THE BIRTH OF rxICHARD III. 

The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign; 
The nisiht-crovv cried, aboHing luckless time; 
Dof^i hovvl'd, an! hi leous tempesis 5ho9k down trees; 
The raven rook'd* her on the chimney's top, 
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. 
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, 
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope; 
To wit, — an indigest deformed lump, 
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 
Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou v/ast born 
'I'o signify, — thou cam'st to'bite .the world. 



KING RICHARD III. 



ACT I. 

THE DUKE OF GLOSTER ON HTS OWN DEFORMITY* 

NOW are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; 

Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; 

Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, 

Our dreadful marches to delightful measures,! 

Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his Avrinkled front; 

And now, — instead of mounting barbed|: steeds, 

To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, — 

He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, 

To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 

But I, — that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, 

Nor made to court an amorous looking glass: 

I. that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty. 

To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; 

I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, 

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,, 

Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before mv time 

Into this breathing world, scarce half made up 

And that so lamely and unfashionable, 

* To rook*, signified to squat dov/n or lodge on any thing, 
t Dances. i AarmeA 



KING RICHARD UI. 158 

That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them; — 

Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, 

Have no delight to pass away the time, 

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, 

And descant on mine own deformity; 

And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, 

To entertain these fair well spoken days, — 

I am determined to prove a villain. 

And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 

GLOSTER'S love for lady ANNE. 

Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt 

tears, 
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops: 
Thf^se eyes, which never shed remorseful* tear, — 
Not, when my father York and Edward wept, 
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made. 
When black-fac'd Clitrord shook his sword at him! 
Nor v.hen thy warlike father, like a child. 
Told the sad stor}^ of my father's death; 
And twenty times made pause, to sob, and weep, 
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, 
Like trees bedash*d with rain: in that sad time, 
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; 
And what these sorrows could not thence exhale. 
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping, 
I never su'd to friend, nor enemy: 
My tongue could never learn sweet soothing words; 
But now thy beauty is propos'd ni}^ fee, 
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to 

speak. 

GLOSTEIi'S PRAISRS OF HIS OWN PERSON, AFTER 
HIS SUCCESSFUL ADDRESSES. 

My dukedom to a beggarly denier, f 
I do mistake my person all this while: 
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot. 
Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass; 
And entertain a score or two of tailors, 
To study fashions to adorn my body: 

* Pitiful, t A small French coin 



154 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Sinc3 I am crept in favour with myself, 
I win maintain it with some little cost. 

Q.'jnsr^ maig\ret's ExscaAxroNs on gloster. 
Thf3 worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul! 
Thy friemls suspect for traitors while thoa liv'st, 
An I ta'ce deep traitors for thy dearest friends! 
N ) sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, 
Unless it b-i while soaie tormentino; dream 
AtiVights thee with a hell of ugly devils! 
Thou elvish mark'.!, abortive, rooting hog! 
Thoa, that was seal'J in thy nativity 
The slave of nature, and the son of hell! 
Tliou slan.der of thy mother's heavy wcjnb! 
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! 
Tiiou rag oi" honour! — thou detested 

HIGH BIRTH. 

I was born so high. 

Our aiery* buildeth in the cedar's top, 

And dallies with the v?ind, and scorns the sun. 

gloster's hypocrisy. 
Bat then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture 
Tell them — that God bids us do good for evil; 
And thns I clothe my naked villany 
Wiih old odd ends slol'n forth of lioly writ 
Ansl seem a saint, when most [ play the devil. 

clarExVOe's dream. 
What was your dream, ray lord? I pray you, tell 

me. 
^Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the 

Tower, 
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; 
An 1, in my company, my brother Gloster; 
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England, 
And cited up a thousand heavy times, 
Daring the wars of York and Lancaster 
That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along 
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
Methought that Gloster stumbled; and in falling, 
iStruck m?.; that thought to stay him, overboard, 

* Nest. 



KING RICHARD III. 155 

Into the tumbling billows of the main. 

O Lord: methought what pain it was to drown! 

What dreaiiial noise of water in mine ears! 

Wiiat sights of ugly death within mine eyes! 

Methought J saw a thousand fearful wrecks; 

A thousand men, that fishes gaaw'd upon; 

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 

Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. 

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes 

Where eyes did once Inhabit, there Avere crept 

(As 'twere in scorn of eyes,) reilecting gems, 

That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, 

And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. 

Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death. 
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep? 

Clar. Methought, I had: and often did I strive 
To yield the ghost: but still the envious Hood 
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air: 
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,* 
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 

Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony? 

Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life, 
O, t!ien began the tempest to my soul! 
[ pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood. 
With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
The lirst that there did greet my stranger soul. 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, 
Who cry'd aloud, — What scourge for perjury 
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence? 
And so he vanish'd: Then came wand'ring by 
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
Dabbled in blood: and he shriek'd out aloud, — 
Clarence i&,come,— false, fleeting, perjurhl Clnrencei-— 
That stabu'd me in the field by Tewksbury ; — 
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments! 
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
Enviror.'d me, and howled in mine ears 



156 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Such hideous cries, that with the very noise, 
I trembliixg wak'd, and, for a season after, 
Could not believe but that I was in hell; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 

Brak. No marvel, lord, though it aftrighted you! 
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. 

Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these things-— 
That now give evidence against my soul, — 
For Edward's sake; and, see, how he requites me! — 
O God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, 
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds. 
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone: 
O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children! 

SORROW. 

Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours. 
Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. 

THE CARES OF GREATNESS. 

Princes have their titles for their glories, 
An outward honour for an inward toil; 
And, for my unfelt imaginations, 
They often feel a world of restless cares: 
So that between their titles and low name. 
There's nothing differs but the outward fame. 

A TilURDEHER'S jVCCOUNT OF CONSCIENCE. 

I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous thing, it 
makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal but it 
accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it checks 
him; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but 
it detects him; 'Tis a blushing shame-fac'd spirit, 
that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of ob- 
stacles; it made me once restore a purse of gold, that 
by chance I found; it beggars any man that keeps it; 
It is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous 
thing; and every man, that means to live well, 
endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it. 



ACT II. 

DECEIT. 

Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, 
And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice ! 



KING RICHARD III. IS? 

SUBMISSION TO HEAVEN OUR DUTY. 

In common worldly things, 'tis call'd — ungrateful^ 
VVith dull nnwillingness to repay a debt, 
Which with a bounteous hand Vv'as kindly lent; 
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, 
For it requires the rojal debt it lent you. 

THE DUCHESS OF YORK'S LAMENTATION ON THE MIS- 
FORTUNES OF HER FAMILY. 

Buck. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days! 
How many of you have mine eyes beheld.'* 
My husband lost his life to get the crown; 
And often up and down my sons were tost, 
For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss: 
And being seated, and domestic broils 
Clean overblown, themselves, the conquerors, 
Make war upon themselves: brother to brother. 
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self; O, preposterous 
And frantic courage, end th}'' damned spleen; 
Or lei me die to look on death no more ! 



ACT III. 

THE VANITY OF TRUST IN MAN. 

O momentary grace of mortal men, 
tVhich we more hunt for than the grace of GodJ 
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, 
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast: 
Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 

CONTEMPLATION. 

Wlien holy and devout religious men 
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; 
So sweet is zealous contemplation. 

ACT IV. 

DESCRIPTION OF THE MURDER OP THE TWO TOUNfi 

PRINCES IN THE TOWER. 

The tyrannous and bloody act is done; 
The most arch deed of piteous massacre, , 
That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
14 



158 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn 
To do tJiis piece of ruthless* butchery, 
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, blood}' dogs, 
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, 
Wept like two children, in their dealli's sad story. 

ikus quoth Dighton, lay the fcen'Je babes, — 
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest girdling one another 
Within their alabaster innocent arms; 

Their lips were four red roses on a slalk, 

F'^hich, in their summer beauty, kissed each other, 

A book of prayers on their pill oio lay; - 

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changhl my mind; 

But, O, the Devil — there the villain «topp'd; 

^Vhen Dighton thus told on, — we smothered 

The most replenished sweet ivork ofnaivji'e, 

That from the prime creation, e'er she framed. — 

Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse,- 

They could not speal<f; and so I leR them both, 

To bear this tidings to the bloody king. 

EXPEDITIOir. 

Come, — I have learn'd, that fearful commenting 
Is leaden servitor to dull delay; 
Delay leads impotent and snail-'pac'd beggary: 
Then fiery expedition be my wing, 
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! 

Q,UEEN Margaret's exprobation. 

I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my fortunej 

1 call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen: 
The presentation of'but what I waj, 

The flattering indexf of a direful pageant, 
One heav'd a high to be hurl'd down below: 
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes; 
A dream of what thou Avast; a garish.]: flag. 
To be the aim of ever}^ dangerous ^hot; 
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble, 
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 

* Merciless. 

t Indexes were anciently placed at llie boginning of 
books. :f Flaring. 



KING RICHARD III. 159 

Whore is tliy husband now ? Where be thy brothers? 

Where be thy two sons? av herein dost thon joy? 

Who sues, and kneels, and says — God save the queen? 

Where be the brndinp; peers that fiatter'd Ihee? 

Where be the thronging troops that follow'd tliee? 

Decline all this and see what now thou art. 

For happy wife, a most distressed widow; 

For joyful mother, one that wails the nanne; 

For one bein.q; sued to one that humbly sues: 

For queen, a very caitiff' crown'd with care; 

For one that scorn'ii at nie, now scorn'd of me; 

For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one; 

For one commanding all, obey'd of none. 

Thus halli the course of justice wheel'd about, 

And left thee but a very prey to time; 

Having no more but thought of what thou wcrt, 

To lorture tiiee themore, being what thou art. 

CHARACTER OF KING RICHARD BY HIS MOTHER. 

Tcchv* and wayward v.'as thy infancy; 
Thy gchool-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and fur* - 

ous; 
Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous; 
Thy age confiim'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody. 

ACT V. 

HOPE. 

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, 
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. 

A FINE EVENING. 

The weary sun hath made a golden set, 
And, by the bright tract of his fiery car, 
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. 

DAY BREAK. 

The silent hours steal on, 
And flaky darkness breaks within the east. 
Richmond's prayer. 
O thou! whose captain I account myself, 
Look on my forces with a gracious eye; 
*Touchv, fretful. 



160 BEAUTIES OF SIIAKSPEARE. 

Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, 
That they may crush down with a heavy fall 
The usurping helmets of our adversaries! 
Make us thy ministers of chastisement, 
That we may praise thee in thy victory ! 
To thee I do commend ray watchful soul, 
Ere I let fall the v/indows of mine eyes; 
Sleeping, andAvaking, O, defend me still! 

RICHARD STARTING OUT OF HIS DREAM. 

Give me another horse, — bind up my wounds, — 
Have mercy, Jesu! — Soft; T did but dream. — 

coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me' — 
The light burns blue. — It is nov/ dead midnight 
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
What do I fear? myself? ' 

CONSCIENCE. 

Conscience is but a word that cowards use, 
Devis'd at tirst to keep the strong in avvC. 

Richard's address before the battle. 

A thousand hearts are great within my bosom; 
Advance our standards, set upon our foes; 
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery Dragons! 
Upon them. I Victory sits on our helms. 

Richard's behaviour after an alarum. 

A horse I a horse! my kingdom for a horse! 

Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to ahorse. 

K. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast. 
And I will stand the hazard of the die: 

1 think, there be six Richmonds in the field; 
Five have I slain to-day, instead of him: — 
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 



KING HENRY VIH. 
ACT I. 

ANGER. 

TO climb steep hills. 
Requires slow pace at first : Anger is like 



KING HENRY VIII. 161 

A full hot-horse; who being allow'd his way, 
Self-mettle tires him. 

ACTION TO BE CARRIED ON WITH RESOLUTION. 

If I am traduc'd by tongues, which neither know 
My faculties, nor person, 3'et will be 
The Chronicies of my doing, — let me say, 
'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake* 
That virtue must go through. We must not stintf 
Our necessary actions, in the fear 
To cope:J: malicious censurcrs; which ever. 
As ravenous fishes do a vessel follow 
That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further 
Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, 
By sick interpreters, oncf§ weak ones, is 
Not ours, or not allow'd :|| what worst as oft, 
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 
For our best act. If we shall stand still, 
In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at. 
We should take root here where we sit, or sit 
State statues only. 

NEW CUSTOMS. 

New customs, * . • ■ 

Though they be never so ridiculous. 
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 

ACT II. 

THE DUiCE OF BUCSINGIIAM'S PRAYER FOR THE KINO. 

May he live 
Longpr than I have time to tell his years! 
Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be! 
And when old time shall lead him to his end, 
Goodness and he fill up one monument! 

DEPENDENTS NOT TO EE TOO MUCH TRUSTED BT 
GREAT MEN. 

This from a dving man receive as certain: 
Where you are liberal oi'your loves, and counsels. 
Be sure, you be not loose: for those you make friends 

* Thicket of thorns. f Retard. t Encounter. 

§ Sometinie. !l Approved. 



i«2 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
Like water from ye, never found again 
But where they mean to sink ye. 

A GOOD WIFE. 

A loss of her, 
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years 
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; 
Of her, that loves him with that excellence 
That angels love good men with; even of her 
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, 
Will bless the king. 

THE BLESSINGS OF A LOW STATION. 

'Tis better to be lowly born, 
And range with humble livers in content, 
Than to he perk'd up in a glistering grief. 
And wear a golden sorrow. 

Q,XJEEN KATHARINE'S SPEECH TO HER HUSBAND 

Alas, sir. 
In what have I offended you? what cause 
iiath my behaviour given to your displeasure, 
That thus you sliould proceed to put me off, 
And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness, 
I here been to you a true and humble wife, 
\t all times to your will conformable: 
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, 
Yea, subject to your countenance: glad, or sorry, 
As I saw it incli'n'd. When was the hour, 
I ever contradicted your desire. 
Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends 
Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
lie were mine enemy? what friend of mine 
That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I 
Continue in mine liking? nay, gave notice 
He was from thence discl^arg'd? Sir, call to mind 
That I have been your wife, in this obedience. 
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 
With many children by you: If, in the course 
And process of this time, you can report. 
And prove it too, against mine honour aught. 
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, 



KING HENRY VIII. 163 

Against your sacred person, in God*s name. 
Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt 
Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
To the sharpest kind of justice. 

QUEEN KATHARINE'S SPEECH TO CARDINAL WOLSEY. 

You are meek, and humble mouth'd; 
You sign your place and calling, in full seeming,* 
Wilh meekness and humility: but your heart 
Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen and pride. 
You have, by fortune, and his highness' favours 
Gone slightly o'er high steps; and now are mounted 
Where powers are your retainers: and your words. 
Domestics to you, serve your will, as't please 
Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, 
You tender more your person's honour, than 
Your high profession spiritual. 

KING henry's CHARACTER OP QUEEN KATHARINE. 

That man i' the world, who shall report he has 
A better wife, let, him in nought be trusted. 
For speaking false in that; Thou art, alone, 
,(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, 
Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government, 
Obeying in commanding, — and thy parts 
Sovereign and piou.s else, could speak thee out,)t 
The queen of earthly queens. 

ACT III. 

QUEEN KATHARINE ON HER OWN MERIT. 

Have I iiv'd thus long — (let me speak myself, 
Since virtue finds no friends,) — a wife, a true one.? 
A woman (I dare say without vain glory,) 
Never yet branded with suspicion.'* 
Have I with all my full afi'ections 
Still met the king.? lov'd him next heav'n .'' obey'dhim? 
Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him.?J 
Almost forgot my prayers to content him.? 
And am I thus rewarded.? 'tis not well, lords. 

* Appearance. f Speak out thy merits, 
t Served him with suDerstitious attention. 



164 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Bring me a constant woman to her husband. 
One ^hat ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure; 
And to that woman when she has done most, 
Yet will I add an honour. — a great patience. 

QUEEN KATHARINE COMPARED TO A LILY. 

Like the lily, 
That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd 
I'll hang my head, and perish. 

OBEDIENCE TO PRINCES. 

The hearts of princes kiss obedience. 
So much the}^ love it: but to stubborn spirits, 
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. 

OUTWARD EFFECTS OF HORROR. 

Some strange commotion 
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts; 
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground. 
Then, lays his finger on his temple; straight, 
Springs out into fast gait:* then stojjs again, 
Strikes his breast hard: and anon, he casts 
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures 
We have seen him set himself. 

FIRM ALLEGIANCE. 

Though perils did 
Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and 
Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty. 
As doth a rock against the chiding flood. 
Should the approach of this wild river break. 
And stand unshaken yours. 

EXTERNAL EFFECTS OF ANGER. 

What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? 
Ke parted frowning from me, as if ruin 
Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion 
Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him; 
Then makes him nothing. 

FALLING GREATNESS. 

Nay then, farewell! 
I have toucb'd the highest point of all my greatness} 
And, from that full meridian of my glory, 

* Steps. 



KING HENRY VIII. 165 

t haste now to my setting: I shall fall 
Like a bright exhalation in the evening. 
And no man see me more. 

THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE. 

So farewell to the little good you bear me, 
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! 
^his is the state of man; To-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: 
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost; 
And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a ripening, — nips his root. 
And then he falls,' as I do. I have ventur'd. 
Like little Avanton boys that swim on bladders 
Thismary summers in a sea of glory; 
But far bejond m}'^ depth: my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me; and now hast left me, 
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. 
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye: 
I feel my heart new open'd; O, how wretched 
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin. 
More pangs and fears than wars or women havej 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 

CARDINAL WOLSEY'S SPEECH TO CROMWELL. 

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all m\ miseries; But thou hast forc'd me 
Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. 
Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; 
And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be; 
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 
Of me more must be heard of, — say, I taught thee, 
Say, Wolsey, — that once trod the ways of glory. 
And sounded ail the depths and shoals of honour, — 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; 
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. 
Cromw^ell, I charge thee, flins: away ambition; 



166 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARB. 

By that sin fell the ano;els, how can man then, 

The image of his Maiier hope to win by't? 

Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee, 

Corrii5)lion Avins not more than honesty. 

Still in thy ri«;ht hand carry eentle peace, 

To silence envious ton2:ues. Be jnst, and fear not: 

Let all the ends thou aimVt at, he thv conntrv's, 

Thv God's and tru(h's; ihon if thou fall'st, Crom- 

Thou fali'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; [well, 

And, — Pr'ythee, lead me in: 

Thpre ta'^e an inventory of all I have, 

To the last penny: 'tis the king's: ray robe. 

And ray integrity to heaven, is all 

T dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, 

Had I hut serv'd my God Avith half the zeal 

I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age > 

Have left me naked to mine enemies. 

ACT IV. 

APPLAUSE. 

Such a noise arose 
As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, 
As loud, and to a^ many tunes: hats, cloaks, 
(Doublets, I thinl:,) flpvvup; and had their t>.ces 
Been loose, this day they had boon lost. Such joy 
I never saw b^-fore. Great-bellied women, 
That had not half a week to go, like rams 
In tlie old time of war, would shake the press. 
And make th^'ra reel before them. No man living 
Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven 
So strangely in one piece. • 

C\PvDTN-AL WOLSRY'S DEATH. 

At last, with easy roads,* he came to Leicester, 
Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, 
With al! his convept, honourably rpcf'iv'd him; 
To whom he &hv<> thes'^ Avords, — O.fafher abbot^ 
An old iium, broken ^il.h the storms of state. 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; 
Give him a UttU earth for charily! 

* By short stagog, 



KING PIENK^ VIII. 167 

So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness 
Pursu''.! hin^ still; and, three nights after this, 
About the hour of eight, (which he himself 
ForoloM, should be his last,) full of repentance, 
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, 
He gave his honours to the world again, \ 

His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 

WOLSEV'S VICES AND VIPTUES. 

So may he rest: his faults lay gently oh him! 
Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him. 
And yet witli chai-ity, — He was a man 
Of an unbounded stomach,* ever ranking 
Himself with princes; one,^ that by suggestion 
Try'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play; 
His own opinion was his law: I' the presencef 
He would say untruths; and be ever double. 
Both in his words and meaning: He was never, 
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful: 
His promises were, as he then v»^as, mighty; 
But his performance, as he is now, nothing. . 

Of his own body he was ill, and gave 
The clergy ill example. 

Grif. Noble madam. 

Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues 
We write in water. 

* » * # ♦ 

This cardinal. 
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashion'd to+ much honour. Vvovc\ his cradle, 
He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one; 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken and persuading; 
Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; 
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. 
And though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, 
He was most princely: Ever witness for hint 
Those tv^ins of learning, that he rais'd in you, 
Ipswich, and Oxford! one§ of which fell with liim, 
UnwiiUngto outlive the good that did it; 

* Price. t Of the king, t Formed for. § TpswJeh. 



163 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The other, though unfinish'd, 5^et so famous. 

So excellent in art, and still so risinoy 

That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 

His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; 

For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 

And found the blessedness of being little; 

And, to add greater honours to his age 

Than man could give him, he died, fearing God, 



ACT V. 

MALICIOUS MEN. 

Men, that make 
Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment, 
Dare bite the best. 

A CHURCHMAN. 

Love, and meekness, lord. 
Become a churchman, better than ambition; 
Win stra3'ing souls with modesty again. 
Cast none away. 

INHUMANITY. 

'Tis a cruelty, 
To load a falling man. 

ARCHBISHOP CRANMER'S PROPHECY. 

Let me speak, sir. 
For heaven now bids me; and the w^ords I utter 
Let none think flattery, for they'll find them truth 
This royal infant, (heaven still move about her!) 
Though in her cradle, yet now promises 
Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings. 
Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be 
(But few now living can behold that goodness,) 
A pattern to all princes living with her. 
And all that shall succeed: Sheba was never 
More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue. 
Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces. 
That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, 
With all the virtues that attend the good, 
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, 
Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: 



KING HENRY VIII. 169 

She shall be lov'd, and fear'd; Her own shall bless 

her: 
Her foes shake like afield of beaten corn, 
And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows 

with her: 
III her days, every man shall eat in safety 
Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing 
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours: 
God shall be truly known; and those about her 
From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, 
And by those claim their greatness, not by blood. 
Nor shall this peace sleep Avith her: But as when 
The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix. 
Her ashes new create another heir 
As great in admiration as herself; 
So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 
(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of dark- 
ness.) 
Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, 
Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was. 
And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, 
That were the servants to this chosen infant, 
Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; 
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, 
His honour, and the greatness of his name 
Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish, 
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 

To all the plains about him: Our children's 

children 
Shall see this, and bless heaven. 
15 



BSilUTIES 

OF 

SHAKSPEARE 

PART III. 



TRAGEDIES. 

ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 

ACT I. 

LOVE THE NOBLENESS OF LIFE, 

LET Rome in Tiber rnelt! anfl the wide arch 
Of the rang'd empire fall! Here is my space^ 
Kingdoms arc clay; our dungy earth alike 
Feeds beast as man: the nobleness of life, 
Is, to do thusj when such a mutual pair, 

[Emhracing. 
And such a twain can do't, in which, I bind, 
On pain of punishment, the world to weet.* 
We stand up peerless. 

Why did he marry Fiilvia, and not love her.^ — 
I'll seem the fool I am notj Antony 
Will be himself. 

^dnL But stirr'd by Cleopatra, — 

Now, for the love of Love, and her soft hours. ^ 

ANTONY'S VICES AND VIRTUES. 

I must not think, there are 
Evils enough to darken all his goodness 
His faults, in him, seem as (he spots of heaven, 
More fiery by night's blackness; hereditarv, 
Rather than purchas'djj what he cannot change., 
Than ^vhat he chooses. 

* Know. t Procured by his o\t7i fault. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 171 

C(es. You are too indulgent: Let us grant it is not 
Amiss to tunible on the bed of PtoleiYiy; 
To g;ivf> a kingdom for a mirth; to sit 
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; 
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buflfet 
With knaves that smell of sweat: say, this becomes 

him. 
^As his composure must be rare indeed, 
Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must 

Antony 
No way excn-e his soils, when we do bear - 
So great weight in his lightness.* If he fiil'd 
His vacancy with his voluptuousness, 
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, 
Call on himf for't: but, to confound^ such time, 
That drums him from his sport, and speaks as loud 
As his own stale, and ours, — 'tis to be chid 
As we rate boys; who, being mature in knowledge, 
Pawn their experience to their present pleasure, 
And so rebel to judgment. 
Antony, 

Leave thy lascivious wassals.§ When thou once 
Wast beaten from Modena, where thou slew'st 
Hirtius and Pan?a, consuls, at thy heel 
Did fame follow; whom thou fought'st against, 
Though daintily brought up, with patience more 
Than savages could sutfer: Thou didst drink 
The staleil of horses, and the gilded puddlelf 
Which beasts would cough at: thy palate then did 

deign 
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; 
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets, 
The barks of trees thou browsed'st; on the Alps 
It is rejforted, thou did'«t eat strange flesh, 
Which some did die to Icok on: and all this 
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,) 
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek 
So much as lank'd not, 

* Levity. t Visit him. t Consume. 

§ Feastings: in the old copy it is vaissailes, i. e. vassal*. 

!! Urine. IT Stagnant, slimy water. 



172 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Cleopatra's solicitude on the absence op 

ANTONY, 

O Charmian, 
Where tliinkst thou he is now? Stands he, or sits he? 
Or does he walk? or is he on his horse? 
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony! 
Do bravely, horse! for wot'st thou whom thou 

mov'st? 
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm 
And burgonet* of men. — He's speaking now% 
Or murmuring Whereas my serpent of Old Nile? 
For so he calls me: Now 1 feed m.yself 
With most delicious poison: — Think on me. 
That am with Phcebus' amorous pinches black, 
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fronted Cesar, 
When thou wast here above the ground, I was 
A morsel for a monarch: and great Pompey 
Would stand, and make his eyes grow" in my brow: 
There would he anchor his aspect, and die 
With his looking on his life. 



ACT 11. 

THE VANITY OF HUMAN WISHES. 

We, ignorant of ourselves, 
Begin often our own harms, which the wise powers 
Deny us for our good; so find \\e profit. 
By losing of our prayers. 

DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA SAILING DOWN THE 
CYDNUS. 

The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, 
Burn'd on the Avater: the poop was beaten gold; 
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that 
The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were 

silver; 
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made 
The water which they beat, to follow faster. 
As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, 
It beggar'd all description : she did lie 

* A Helmet. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 17S 

• 

In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue,) 
O'er picturing that Venus, where we see, 
The fancy out-work nature: on each side her 
Stood pretty dimpled iioys, like smiling Cupids, 
With diverse-coloured fans, whose wind did seem 
To gu)^v the delicate che^^ks which they did cool, 
AnH what they undid, did.* 

A^r. O, rare for Antony. 

EriD. Her gentlewoman, like the Nereides, 
So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, 
And made their bends adornings: at the helm 
A seeming mermaid steers; the silken tackle 
vSwell with the touches of those flower-?oft hands, 
That yearly framef the office. From the barge 
A strange invisible perfume hits the sense 
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast 
Her people out upon her; and Antony, . 
Entliron'd in the market place, did sit "alone, 
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy, 
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too. 
And made a gap in nature. 

Cleopatra's ixfjnith poweh in pleasing. 

Age cannot wither hor, nor custom stale 
Her infinite variety: Other women 
Cloy the appetites they feed; but she makes hungry 
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things 
Become themselve<? in her; that the holy priests 
Bless her, when she's riggish.:{: 

THE UNSETTLED HUMOURS OF LOVERS. 

Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and Alexas 

Cleo. Give n.e some raiisic; music, moody § food 
Of us that trade in love. 

Attend. Therausic, ho! 

Enter IMardian. 

Cleo. Let it alone; let us to billiards: 
Come, Charmian. 

Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mardian. 

Cleo. As well a woman with an eunucn play'd 
As with a woman: — Come yoii'll play with me, sir? 

* Added to the warmth they were intended to diminish. 

t Readily perform. ^ Wanton. § Melancholy. 



174 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Mar. As well as I can, madam. 

Cleo. And when good will is show'd, though it 
come too short, 
The actor ma}^ plead pardon. I'll none now: — 
Give me mine angle, — We'll to the river: there, 
My music playing far off, I will betray 
Tawny finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce 
Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, 
I'll think them every one an Antony, 
And say, Ah! ah! you're caught. 

Char. 'Twas merry, when 

You wager'd on your angling; when your diver 
Did hang a salt fish on his hook, which he 
With fervencv drew up. 

Cleo. " Thattime!—0 times!— 

I laugh'd him out of patience; and that night 
I laugh'd him into patience; and next morn, 
Rre the ninth hour, I drunk him to his bed; 
Then put my tires* and mantles on him, whilst 
I wore his sword Philippan. 

ACT III. 

AJI3ITJ0N JEALOUS OF A TOO SUCCESSFUL FRIENQ. 

§iiius, Silius, 
I have done enough: A lower place, note well. 
May make too great an act: For learn this, Silius; 
Better leave undone, than by our deed acquire 
Too high a fame, when him we serve's away. 

WHAT OCTAVIA'S ENTRANCE SHOULD HAVE BEEN. 

Why have you stol'n upon us thus? You come not 
Like Cesar's sister: The wife of Anto.ny 
Should have an army for an usher, and 
The neighs of horse to tell of her approach, 
Long ere she did appear; the trees by the way, 
Should have borne men; and expectation fainted, 
Longing for what it had not: nay the dust 
Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, 
Rais'd by your populous troops: But you are come 
A market-maid to Rome : and have prevented 

♦ Head-drew. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 175 

The ostent* of our love, which, left unshown 
Is often left unlov'd : we should have met you 
By sea, and landj supplying every stage 
With an augmented greeting. 

WOMEN, 

Women are not. 
In their best fortunes, strong; but want will perjure 
The ne'er toucli'd vestal. 

FORTUNE FORMS OUR JUDGMENTS. 

I see men's judgments are 
A parcelf of their fortunes: and things outward 
Do draw the inward quality after them. 
To suffer all alike. 

LOYALTY. 

Mine honesty, and I, begin to square.:): 
The loyalty, well held to fools, does make 
Our faith mere folly: — Yet he tha.t can endure 
To follow with allegiance a fallen lord, 
Does conquer him that did his mastei* conquer, 
And earns a place i' the story. 

WISDOM SUPERIOR TO FORTU.VE. 

Wisdom and fortune combating togetiier, 
If that the former dare but what it can, 
No chance may shake it. 

VICIOUS PERSONS INFATUATED BY HEAVEN 

Good, my lord, — 
But Vv^hen we in our viciousness grow hard, 
(O miser}'^ on't!) the wise gods seal§ our eyes; 
fn our own filth, drop our clear judgments; make us 
A.dore our errors; laugh at us, v^diile we strut 
To our confusion. 

FURY EXPELS FEAR. 

Now he'll out-stare the lightning. To be furious. 
Is to be frighted out of fear: and in that mood, 
The dove will peck the estridge:}] and I see still, 
A diminution in our captain's brain 
Restore his heart: When valour preys on reason, 
It eats the svrord it fights with. 

* Show, token. t Are of a piece with chew.. 

+ Qaarre'. § Close up. li Ostri$;h. 



176 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

ACT IV. 

A MASTER TAKING LEAVE OF lilS SERVANTS. 

Tend me to-night; 
May be it is the period of your duty: 
Haply,* you shall not see me nn.ore; or if. 
A mangled shadow: perchance, to-morron' 
You'll serve another master. I loose on you, 
As one that ta'ves his leave. Mine honest friends, 

turn you not away; but, like a master 
Married to your good service, stay till death: 
Tend me to-night two hours. I ask no more, 
And the gods yieldf you for't ! 

EARLY RISING THE WAY TO EMINEI-TCE. 

This morning, like a spirit of a youth 
That means to be of note, begins betimes. 

ANTO^^Y TO CLEOPATRA, AT HIS RETURN WITH 
VICTORY. 

O thnu day o' the world, 
Chain mine arm'd neck: leap thou, attire and all. 
Through proof of harness;}: to my heart, and there 
Ride on the pants triumphing. 

LOATHED life;. 

O sovereign mistress of true melancholy, 
The poisonous damp of night disponge§ upon me; 
That life, a very rebel of my will. 
May hang no longer on mo. 

anto>'y's despondsxcy. 

O ^un, thy uprise shall I see np more: 
Fortune znd Antony part here; even hers 
Do we shake hands. — All come to this? — The hearts 
That spanlei'd nie at heels, to whom I gave 
Their wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets 
On blossorain^' Cesar; and this pine is bark'd, 
That overtopp'd them a!!. 

DSPARTI.VG greatness. 

The soul and body rivejj not more in parting 
Than greatness going off. 

* Perhapp. t Rr^-ard. t Armour of proof. 

§ Dischav^re, a? a spon^ro when sqrjeezed discharges the 
wojsttire it K-u- ivi.blh.-^d. il SJ\:. 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 177 

^.ktony's reflections on his faded glort. 

Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish: 
A vapour, sometimes, like a bear, or lion, 
A towsr'd citadel, a pendant rock, 
A forked mountain, or blue promontory 
\Vith trees upon't, that nod unto the world. 
And mock our eyes with air: Thou hast seen these 

signs; 
They are black vesper's pageants. 

Eros, Ay, my lord. 

.int. That, which is now a horse, even with a 
thought, 
The rack* dislimns; and makes it indistinct. 
As water is in water. 

Eros. It does, my lord. 

Ant. My good knavef Eros, now thy captain is 
Even such a body; here I am Antony; 
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. 
I made these wars for Egypt; and the queen, 
Whose heart, f thought, I had, for she had mine: 
Which, while it was mine, had annex'd unto't 
A million more, now lost, — she, Eros, has 
Pack'd cards with Cesar, and false play'd my glory 
Unto an enemy's triumph. — 
Nay, weep not, gentle Eros; there is left us 
Ourselves to end ourselves. 

DESCRIPTiOrr OF CLEOPATRA'S SUPPOSED DEATH. 

Death of one person can be paid but once; 
And that she has discharged: What thou would'st do, 
Is done unto thy hand; the last she spake 
Was Antony! most noble Antony! 
Then in the midst a tearing groan did break 
The name of Antony; it was divided 
Between her heart and lips: she render'd life. 
Thy name so buried in her. 
Cleopatra's reflections on the dsj^th op 

ANTONY. 

ft were for me 
To- throw my sceptre at the injurious gods^ 

♦ The fleeting clouds. t Servant. 



17« BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEA RE. 

To tell them, that this world did equal theirs. 

Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught: 

Patience is sottish; and impatience does 

Become a dog that's mad: Then is it sin, 

To rush into ihe secret house of death, 

Ere death d^re come to us? —Row do you, women? 

V»^hat, what? good cheer? Wh}^, how now, Chai 

mian ? 
My noble girls! — Ah, women, w^omen ! look, 
Our lamp is spent, it's oi;t; — Good sirs, take heart: — 
We'll bury him: and then, what's brave, what's noble, 
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, 
And make death proud to take us. Come, away: 
This ca^e of that huge spirit now is cold. 

ACT V. 

DEATH. 

My desolation does begin to make 
A better life: 'Tis paltry to be Cesar; 
Not being fortune, he's but fortune's knave,* 
A minister of her will: And it is great 
To do that thing that ends aii other deeds; 
Which shacLles accidents, and bolts up change; 
Which sleeps, and never palates more the dung, 
The beggar's nurse and Cesar's. 

OLEOPATRA'3 dream, and description or ANTONY, 

Cleo. I dream'd, there was an emperor Antony; — 
O, such another sleep, that I might see 
But such another man ! 
Dol. If it might please you, — 

Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and therein stuck 
A -sun, and moon; which,' kept their course, and 

lighted 
The little 0, the earth. 

Dol. Most sovereign creature, — 

Cleo. His legs bestrid the ocean: his rear'd arm 
Crested the world: his voice was propertied 
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends: 

* Servant 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 179 

But whi^n he meant to quail* and shake the orb, 
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty, 
There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas^ 
That greAV the more by reaping: His delights 
Were dolphin-like; th^y shovv'd liis back above 
The element they lived in: In his livery 
Walk'd crowns, and crownets; realms and islands 

were 
As plates! dropp'd from his pocket. 

FIRM RESOLUTION. 

How poor an instrument ' 

May do a noble deed! he brings me liberty. 
My resolution's plac'd, and I have nothing 
Of woman in me: Now from head to foot 
[ am marble-constant: now the fleetir;g+ moon 
No planet is of mine. 

CLiiOPATRA'S SPEECH ON APPLYING THE ASP. 

Give me my robe, put on my crown; I have 
Immortal longings in me: Now no more 
The juice of Egypt's grape shall moist this lip: — 
Vare, yare,§ good -Iras; quick. — Methinks, I hear 
Antony call; 1 see him rouse himself " 
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock 
The luck of Cesar, which the gods give men 
To excuse their afler wralh: Husband, I come: 
Now 1.0 that name my courage prove my title! 
I am fire, and air; my other elements 
I give to baser life. — So, — have you done? 
Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips. 
Farev/ell, kind Charmian; — [ras, long farewell. 
Have [ the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? 
If thou and nature can so gently part. 
The f'troke of dpalh is as a lover's pinch, 
VYhich hurts and is desir'd. Dost thou lie still? 
If thus thou vanis-hest, thou tell'st the world 
It is not worth leave-* aking. 

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may 

* Cinith, t Sil'.*er incn'.\". + Inconetant, 
,. fMake ha?;e. 



ISO BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The gods themselves do weep ! 

Cleo. This proves me base: 

If she iirst meet the curled Antonj^, 
He'll make demands of her; and spend that kiss, 
Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal wretch, 
[ To the asp, which she applies to her breast. 
With thy sharp teeth, this'knot intrinsicate 
Of life at once untie: poor venomous fool. 
Be angr}^, and despatch. O, could'st thou speak! 
That i might hear thee call great Cesar, ass 
Unpoliciedl* 

Char, eastern star! 

Cleo. Peace, peace ! 

Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, 
That sucks the nurse asleep? 

Char, O, break ! O, break. 

Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as gentle, — 
O Antony! — Nay, I will take thee too: — 

[Applying another asp to her arm. 
What should I stay — {Falls on a bed, and dies. 

Char. In this wild world? — So, fare thee well. — 
Now boast thee, death ! in thy possession lies 
A lass unparallel'd. 



CORIOLANUS. 



ACT I. 



A MOB. 

VVHaT would you have, you curs, 
That like nor peace, nor war? the one affrights you, 
The other makes you proud. He that trusts you, 
Where he should find you lions, finds you hares; 
Where foxes, geese: You are no surer, no, 
Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, 
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, 
To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, 
Aiui curse that justice did it. Who deserves great- 
ness, 

* Unpolitic to leave me to myself. 



COIUOLANUS. 181 

Deserves your hate, and your alfections are 

A sick man's appetite, who desires most that 

Which would increase his evil. He that depends 

Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, 

And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust 

With every minute you do change a mind; 
And call him noble, that was now your hate, 
Him vile, that was your garland. 

Ax\ IMAGINARY DESCRIPTION OF CORIOLANUS 
WARIIING. 

Methinks, I heap hither your husband's drum; 
See him pluck Auiidius down by the hair; 
As children from a bear, the Voices shunning him: 
Methinks, I see him stamp thus, and call thus, — 
Co'ine on y&u cowards, you were got in fear ^ 
Though you were born in Rome: His bloody brow 
With his mailM hand then wiping, forth he goes; 
Like to aharvest-inan, that's task'd to mow 
Or all, or l-jse his hire. 

Vir. His bloody brov/! 0, Jupiter, no blood! 

f^ol. Away, you fool! it more becomes a man, 
Than gilt his trophy. The breasts of Hecuba, 
When she did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier 
Than Hector's forehearl, when it spit forth blood 
At Grecian swords contending. 

DOIKG OUK DUTY MERITS ^-0T PRAISE. 

Pray, novv, no more: my mother, 
Who has a charter* to extol her blood. 
When ^he does [iraise me, grieves me. I have done, 
As you have done; that's what I can; induc'd 
As you have been; that's for my country: 
He," that has but effected his good will, 
Hath overta'en mine act. 

'AUFiDIUS'S HATRED TO CORIOLANUS. 

Nor sleep, nor sanctuary, 
Being naked, sick: nor fane, nor Capitol, 
The prayers of priests, nor times of sacrifice, 
Embarquernunts all o( fury, shall lift up 

* Privilege. 
16 



152 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst 
My hate to Marcius: where I find him, were it 
At home upon ray brother's guard,* even there 
Against the hospitable cannon, would I 
Wash my fierce hand in his heart. 

, ACT II. 

' POPULARITY. 

AH tongues speak of him, and the bleared sights 
Are spectacled to see him: Your prattling nurse 
Into a rapturef lets her baby cry, 
While she chats him: the kitcheri malkin| pins 
Her richest lockram§ 'bout her reechyH neck, 
Clambering the walls to eye him: stalls, bulks, win- 
dows. 
Are smother'd up, leads fill'd, and ridges hors'd 
With variable complexions; all agreeing 
In earnestness to see him: seldlf-shown flamens** 
Do press among the popular throngs, and puif 
To win a vulgar station :tt our veil'd dames 
Commit the war of white and damask, in 
Their nicel3^-gawded+| cheeks, to the wanton spoil 
Of Phoebus' burning kisses: such a pother, 
As if that whatsoever god, who leads him. 
Were slily crept into his human powers, 
And gave him graceful posture. 

COMINIUS'S PRAISE OF CORIOLANUS IN THE SENATE, 

I shall lack voice: the deeds of Coriolanus 
Should not be utter'd feebly. — It is held, 
That valour is the ehiefest virtue, and 
Most dignifies the haver:§§ if it be, 
The man 1 speak of cannot in the world 
Be singly counterpois'd. At sixteen years, 
When Tarquin made a head for Rome, he fought 
Beyond the mark of others; our then dictator. 
Whom with ah praise I point at, saiv him fight, 

* My brother posted to protect him. t Fit. t Maid. 
§ Best linen. II Soiled with sweat and smoke. 
IT Seldom. ** Priests, tt Common standing-place, 
a Adorn'd §§ Possessor. 



CORIOLANUS. , 188 

When with his Amazonian chin* he dtove 

The bvistledf lips before him: he bestrid 

An o'er-preps'd Roman, and i' the consul's view 

Slew three opposers: Tarquin'sself he met, 

And j^truck him on his knee: in that "day's feats, 

When he might act the woman in the scene,^ 

He prov'd best man i' the field, and for his meed§ 

Wcfs brow-bound with the oak. His pupilage 

Man entered thus, he waxed like a sea; 

And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since, 

He lurch'djl all swords o' the garland. For this last, 

Before and in Corioli, let me say, 

1 cannot speak hini home: He stopp'd the fliers: 

And, by his rare example, made the coward 

Turn terror into sport: as waves before 

A vessel under sail, so men cbey'd, 

And fell below his stem: his sword (death's stamp) 

Where it did mark, it took; from face to foot 

He Avas a thing of blood, whose every motionlF 

Was timed** with dying cries: alone he enter'd 

The mortal gate o' the city, which he painted 

With shunless destiny, aidless came off. 

And with a sudden reinforcement struck 

Corioli, like a planet: noAV all's his: 

AVhen by and by the din of war 'gan pierce 

His ready sense: then straight his doubled spirit 

Kequicken'd what in fiesh was fatigate,tt 

And to the battle came he; where he did 

Run reeking o'er the lives of men, as if 

'Twere a perpetual spoil: and, till we call'd 

Both field and city ours, he never stood 

To ease his breast with panting. 

AiT HI. 

THE MISCHIEF OF ANARCHY. 

My soul aches, 
To know, when two authorities are up, 

* Without a beard. t Bdarded. 

t Smooth-fuced enough to act a woman's part. 
§ Reward. II Won. ^T Stroke, ** Followed, 
tt Wearied. 



181 BEAUTIES OF bllAKSPEARE. 

Neither supreme, how soon confusion 
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take 
The one by the other, 

CHARACTER OF CORIOLANUS. 

His nature is too noMe for the world : 
He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 
Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's his 

mouth: 
What his breast forges that his tongue must vent; 
And, being angry, does forget that ever 
He heard the name of death. 

HONOUR AXD POLICY. 

I ha\e heard you say, 
Honour and policy, like unscver'd friends, 
I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me 
In peace, what each of them by th' other lose. 
That they combine not there. 

THE METHOD TO GAIN POPULAR FAVOUR. 

Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand; 
And thus far having stretch'd it, (here be with them;) 
Thy knee bussing the stones (for in such business 
Action is eloquence, ?.nd the eyes of the ignorant 
More learned than the ears,) wav^ing thy head, 
Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart, 
That humble, as the ripest mulberr}'', 
Now will not hold the handling: Or, say to them, 
Thou art their soldier, and being bred in broils, 
Hast not the soft way, Avhich, thou dost confess, 
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, 
In asking their good loves; but thou wilt frame 
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far 
As thou hast power, and person. 

CORIOLANUS'S ABHORREMCE OF FLATTERY. 

Well, I must do't: 
Away, my disposition, and possess me 
Some harlot's spirit! My throat of war be turn'd. 
Which quired with my drum, into a pipe 
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice 
That babies lulls asleep! The smiles of knaves 



CORIOLANUS. 185 

Tent* in my cheeks; and school-boys' tears take up 
The glasses of my sic^ht ! A bep;gar's tongue 
Make motion through my lips; and my arm'd knees^ 
Who how'd but in my stirrup, bend li,ke his 
That hath receiv'd an alms! — I will not do't: 
Lest 1 surcease to honour mine own truth, 
And, by my body's action, teach my mind 
A most inherent baseness. 

volumnia's resolution on the pride op 
coriolanus. 
At thy choice then : 
To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour. 
Than thou oi them. Come all to ruin; let 
Thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fear 
Thy dangerous stoutness; for I inock at death 
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. 
Thy valiantness was mine, thou suck'dst it from me; 
But owef thy pride thyselfy 

CORIOLANUS'S DETESTATION OF THE VULGAR. 

You common cry:}: of curse I whose breath I hate 
As reek§ o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize 
As the dead carcasses of unburied men 
That do corrupt my air, I banish you; 
And here remain with your uncertainty! 
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts! 
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes. 
Fan you into despair; have the power still 
To banish your defenders; till, at length, 
Your ignorance (which finds not till it feels,) 
Making not reservation of yourselves, 
(Still your own foes,) deliver you, as most 
Abated II captivf..-;, to some nation 
That won ycu without blows! 

ACT IV. 

PRECKPT AGAINST ILL FORTUNE. 

You were usM 
To say, extremity was the trier of spirits: 
That common chances common men could bear; 

* Dwell, t 0;vn. t Pack § Vapour. II Subdued, 
16 * 



186 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That, when t!.e sea was calm, all boats alike 
Shovv'd mastership in floating-: fortune's blows, 
When most struck home, being gentle wounded, 

craves 
A noble cunning: you were us'd to load me 
With precepts, that would make invincible 
The heart that conn'd them. 

ON COMMO: FRIENDSHIPS. 

O, world, thy slippery turiis! Friends now fast 
sworn, 
Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart. 
Whose hours, whose bed, wliose meal, and exercise, 
Are still together, who twin, as 'twere in love 
Unseparable, shall within this hour, 
On a dissention of a (ioit,* break out 
To bitterest enmity : So fellcst foes, 
^Vhose passions and whose plots have broke their 

sleep 
To take the one the other, by some chance, 
Some trick not worth a.n egg, shall grow dear friends. 
And interjoin their issues. 

MARTIAL FRIENDSHIP. 

Let me tAvine 
Mine arms about that body, where against 
My grained ash an hundred times hath brolie. 
And scar'd the moon with splinters. Here I dipt 
The anvil of my sword; and do contest 
As hotly and as nobly with thy love, 
As ever in ambitious strength I did 
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first, 
I loved the maid I married; never man 
Sig\'d truer breath : but that I see thee here, 
Thou noble thing! more dances my wrapt heart. 
Than when ! first my weddod mistress saw 
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I tell 

thee, 
W« liave a power on foot; and I had purpose 
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn,:}: 
Ov lose mine arm for't: Thou hast beat me out§ 

• A small coin, t Embrace, t Ann. § Full. 



CORIOLANUS. 187 

Twelve several times, and 1 have nightly since 
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me; 
We have been down together in my sleep, 
Unhuekling helms, listing each other's throat. 
And wak-d half dead with nothing. 

ACT V. 

THE SEASON OF SOLICITATION. 

He was not taken well: he had not din'd: 
The veins uniili'd, our blood is cold, and then 
We pout upon the morning, are unapt 
To give or to forgive; but when we have stuff 'd 
These pipes and these conveyances of our blood 
With vv^ine and feeding, we have suppler souls 
Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'll watch 

him 
Till he be dieted to my request. 

0BSTI2>\\.TE RESOLUTION. 

My wife comes foremost; then the honour'd mould 
Wherein this trunk was frani'd, and in her hand 
The grandchild to her blood. But, out, affection: 
All bond and privilege of nature, break! 
Let it be virtuous, to be obstinate. — 
What is that court'sey worth, or those doves' eyes, 
Which can make gods forsworn? — I melt, and am 

not 
Of stronger earth than others. — My mother bows, 
As if Olympus to a molehill should 
In supplication nod: and my young boy 
Hath an aspect of intercession, which 
Great nature cries, Deinj not — Let the Voices 
Plou;^;a Rome, and harrow Italy; I'll never 
Be such a gosling* to obey instinct; but stand. 
As if a man were author of himself. 
And knew no other kin. 

RELENTING TENDERNESS. 

Like a dull actor now, 
I have forgot my jjart, and I am out, 
Even to a full (iisgrace. Best of my llesh, 

* A youiig goose. 



183 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Forgive my tyranny; but do not say, 
For that, Forgive our Ronmns. — O, a kiss 
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! 
Now by the jealous queen^ of heaven, that kiss 
I carried from thee, dear; and my true lip 
Hath virgin'd it e'er since. — You gods, I prate, 
And the most noble mother of the world 
Leave unsaluted: Sink my knee, i' the earth; 
Of thy deep duty more impression show 
Than that of common sons. 

CHASTITY. 

The noble sister of Publicola, 
The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle, 
That's cruded by the frost from purest snow, 
And hangs on Dian's temple: Dear Valeria! 

CORIOLANUS'S PRAYER FOR HIS SON. 

The god of soldiers, 
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform 
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st prove 
To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars 
Like a great sea mark, standing every flaw,t 
And saving those that eye thee! 

volumwia's pathetic speech to her son 
coriolanus. 
Think with thyself, 
How more unfortunate than all living women 
Are we come hither: since that th}^ sight, which 

should 
Make our eyes flow with joy, hearts dance with com- 
forts. 
Constrains them weep, and shake with fear and 

sorrow; 
Making the mother, v/ife, and child, to see 
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing 
His country's bowels out. And to poor we. 
Thine enmity's most capital: thou barr'st us 
Our prayers to the gods, which is a comfort 
That all but we en jo v. 

# * ^ * * * 

* hmo. t Gust, storm 



, CYMBELINE. 188 

We must firivi 

An evidervt calamity, though we had 

Our wish, which side should win; for either thou 

Must, as a foreign recreant, be led 

With manacles through our streets, or else 

Triumphantly tread on thy country's ruin; 

And bear the palm, for having bravely shed 

Thy wile and children's blood. For myself, son, 

I purpose not to wait on fortune, till 

These wars determine:* if I cannot persuade thee 

Rather to show a noble grace to both parts. 

Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner 

March to assault thy counlry, than to tread, 

(Trust to't, thou dialt not) on thy mother's womb, 

That brought thee to tJiis world. 

PEACE AFTER A SIEGE. 

Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown tide, 
As the rccomforted through the gates. Vv^hy, hark 

you: 
The trumpets, sackbuts, psalteries, and fifes. 
Tabors and cymbals, and the shouting Romans, 
Make the sun dance. 

CYMBELINE. 
ACT T. 

PARTING LOVERS. 

Imo. THOU shouldst have made him 
As little as a crow, or less, ere left 
To after-eye him. 

Pisa. Madam, so I did. 

Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings; crack'd 
them, but 
To look upon him: till the diminution 
Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle: 
Nay, foUov.'d him, till he had melted' from 
The smallness of a gnat to air: and then 
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept. — But, good Pisanio^ 
\Vhen shall we hear from him.'* 

♦ Conclude. 



190 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Pisa. Be assur'o, raadam. 

With his next vantage.* 

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had 
Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, 
How I would think on him, at certain hours. 
Such thoughts, and such; or I could make him swear 
The she's of Italy should not betray 
Mine interest, and his honour; or have charged him, 
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, 
To encounter me with orisons, f for then 
I am in heaven for him: or ere I could 
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set 
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father. 
And, like the tyrann5us breathing of the north, 
Shakes all our buds from growing. 

THE BASENESS OF FALSEHOOD TO A WIFE. 

Doubting things go ill, often hurts more 
Than to be sure they do: F,or certainties 
Either are past remedies: or, timely knowing, 
The remedy then born; discover to me 
What both you spur and stop.J 

lach. Had I this cheek 

To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose touch, 
Whose every touch, would force the feeler's soul 
To the oath of loyalty; this object, which 
Takes prisoner the wild mnnrii of mine eye. 
Fixing it only here; should I (^damn'd then,) 
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs. 
That mount the Capitol; join gripes with hands 
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, as 
With labour;) then lie peeping in an eye, 
Base and unlustrous as the smoky light 
That's fed with stinking tallow; it were fit, 
That all the plagues of hell should at one time 
Encounter svich revolt. 

* Opportunity, t Meet me with reciprocal prayer. 

:J: What you seem anxious to utter, and yet withhold. 



OYMBELINE. 191 

ACT II. 

SCENE. A Bedchamber ; in one part of it a Trunk. 

Imogen reading in her Bed; a Lady attending, 

Imo. Mine eyes are weak: — 
FoM down the leaf where I have left: To bed! 
Take not away the taper, leave it burning: 
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, 
I pr'ythec, call me. Sleep hath seiz'd me wholly. 

[Exit Lady. 
To your protection I commend me, gods ! 
From fairies, and the tempter's of the night, 
Guard me, beseech ye ! 

[Sleeps. lachimo from the Trunk. 

lack. The crickets sing, and man's o'er-labour'd 
sense 
Repairs itself by rest: Our Tarquin thus 
Did softly press the rushes,* ere he waken'd 
The chastity he wounded, — Cytherea, 
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed! fresh lily! 
And whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! 
But kiss! one kiss! Rubies unparagon'd. 
How dearly they do't. — Tis her breathing that 
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o' the taper 
Bows toward her; and would underpeep her lids. 
To see the enclosed lights, now canopied 
Under these windows: White and azure, lac'd 
With blue of heav'ns own tinct.f But my design.' 
To note the chamber: — I will v/rite all down: 
Such, and such pictures; — There the window:- 

Such 
The adornment of her bed; — The arras, :{: figures. 
Why, such, and such: — And the contents o' the sto 

ry,— 

Ah, but some natural notes about her body, 
Above ten thousand meaner moveables 
Would testify to enrich mine inventory: 
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! 

♦ It was anciently the custom to strew chambers witb 
rushes. 

tic. The white skin laced with blue veins. 
t Tapesti-y. 



192 BEAUTIES OF SIIAKSPEARE. 

And be her sense but as a monument, i 

Thus in a chapel lying! — Come off, come off; — 

[ Taking off her Bracelet. 
As slippery, as the Gordian knot was hard! 
'Tis mine; and this will witness outvvardl}'', 
As strongly as the conscience does within, 
To the madding of her lord. On her left breast 
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
I' the bottom of a cowslip: Here's a voucher. 
Stronger than ever law couid make: this secret 
Will force him think I have pick'dthe lock, andta'en 
The treasure of her honour. No more. — To what 

end .? 
Why should I write this down, that's riveted, 
Screw'd to my memory? She hath been reading late 
The tale of Tereus; here the leaf's turn'd down, 
Where Philomel gave up: — I have enough: 
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night ! — that dawning 
May bear the raven's eye: I lodge in fear; 
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. 

\_Goes into the Trunk. The Scene closes. 

GOLD. 

'Tis gold 
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes 
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold 
Which makes the true, man kill'd, and saves the thief; 
Nay, sometimes, hangs both thief and true man: 

What 
Can it not do, and undo? 

A SATIRE OF WOMEN. 

Is there no way for men to be, but women 
Must be half-workers? We are bastards all; 
And that most venerable man, which I 
Did call my father, was I know not where 
When 1 was stamp'd; some coiner with his tools 
Made me a counterfeit; Yet my mother seem'd 
The Dian of that time: so doth my wife 
The nonpariel of this. — O vengeance, vengeance! 
* Modesty. 



CYMBELINE. 1»S 

Me of m}' lawCiil pleasure she restrain'd. 

And pray'd me, oi't, forbearance: did it with 

A pudency* so rosy, the sweet view on't 

Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I thought 

As chaste as unsun'd snow : [her 

* « ^ # * « 

Could I find out 

The woman's part in me! For there's no motion 

That tends to vice in man, but I affirm 

It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it, 

The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; 

Ambitions, covctings, change of prides, disdain, 

Nice longings, slanders, mutability, 

AH faults that may be nam'u, nay that hell knows, 

Wh}'-, hers, in part, or ail; but, rather, all: 

For ev'n to vice 

They are not constant, but are changing still 

One vice, but of a minute old, for one 

Not half so old as that. I'll write against them. 

Detest them, curse them : — Yet 'tis greater skill 

In a true hate, to pray they have their will: 

The very devils cannot plague them better 

ACT III. 

IMPATIENCE OF A WIKE TO MEET HER HUSBAND, 

O, for a horse witli Vvdngs ! — Hear'st thou, Pisanio? 
He is at M^lford-Haven: Read, and toil me 
How far 'tis thither. If one of mean affairs 
May plod it in a week, whv may not I 
Glide thither in a day? — Then, true Picanio, 
(Who long'st like me, to see thy lord: who long'st, — 
U, let me bate, bat not like me: — yet long'st, — 
But in a fainter kind; — O, not like me; 
For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak thick, t 
{Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hearing, 
To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is 
To this same blessed Milford: And, by the way, 
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as 

* Modesty. 

t Crowd one word on another, as fast as possible 
17 



194 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To inherit such a haven: But first of all, 
How we may steal from hence; and, for the gap 
That we shall make in time, from our hence-going, 
And our return, to excuse: — but first, how get 

hence; 
Why should excuse he bo;-n or e'er begot? 
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak, 
How many score of miles may we well ride 
'Twixt hour and hour? 

Pisa. One score, 'twixt sun and sun, ^ 

Madam, 's enough for you; and too much too. 

lino. Wh3'j one that rode to his execution, man 
Could never go so slow: I have heard of ridingi 
wagers, ' 

Where horses have been nimbler than the sands 
That ran i'lhe clockri behalf: — But this is foolery :—» 
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness; say 
She'll home to her fither: and provide me, presently 
A riding suit; no costlier than would fit 
A franklin's* housewife. 

Pisa. Madam, you're best considler. ' 

Imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor here, 
Nor what ensuer-; but have a fog in them, - 
That I cannot look through. Away, 1 pr'ythee; 
Do as I bid thee: There's no more to say; 
Accessible is none but Milford vi'ay. [Exeunt 

SCENE. Wales, d mountainous Country, with a 
Cave. 

£;ifer BsLAuius, Quids p.t us, tr;iiZ Arviragus; 

Bel. A goodly day not to keep ouse, with such 
Whose roof's as low as ours! Stoop, boys: This gate 
Instructs ycAi how to adore the heavens; and bows 
you .V 

To morning's hol}^ office: the gates of monarchs ' 
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jetf throjjigh 
And keep their impious turbands on, without 
Good morrow to the sun. — Hail, thou fair heaven 
We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly 
As prouder livers do. 

* A freeholder. t Strut, walk proudly. 



cy:jbeline. 195 

Gui. Hail, heaven ! 

Arv: Hailj heaven ! 

Bel. Now, for our mountain sport: Up to yon hill. 
Your legs are young; I'll tread these flats. Consider, 
When you above perceive me like a crow, 
That it is place which lessens, and sets off. 
And you may then revolve what tales I have told you, 
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: 
This service is not servile, so being done, 
But being so allow'd: To apprehend thus, 
Draws us a profit from all things we see: 
And often, to our comfort, shall we find 
The sharded* beetle in a safer hold 
Than is the full-wing'd eagle. O, this life 
Is nobler, than attending for a check- 
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe; 
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for silk: 
Such gain the cap of him., that makes them fine, 
Yet keeps his book uncross'd: no life to ours.f 

Ckii. Out of your proof you speak: we, poor un- 
fledg'd, 
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor know 

not 
What air's from home. Haply, this life is best, 
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you, 
That have a sharper known; well corresponding 
With your stiff age; but, unto us, it is 
A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed; 
A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
To stride a limit4 

^^rv. What should we speak of, 

When we are old as you? Vvhen we shall hear 
The rain and wind beat dark December, how 
In this our pincliing cave, shall Ave discourse 
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing: 
We are beastly; subtle as the fox, for prey; 
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat: 
Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage 
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird, 

* Sraly-winged. t i. e. Compared v/ith ours. 

X To Oi'erpass his bo 



196 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And sing our bondage freely. 

Bel. How you speak I 

Did you but know the city's usuries, 
And felt them knowingly: the art o'the court, 
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb 
Is certain' falling, or so slippery, that 
The fear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war, 
A pain that only seems to seek out danger 
I' the name of fame, and honour; which dies i' the 

search; 
And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph, 
As record of fair act; nay, many times, 
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, 
Must court'sey at the censure: — O, boys, this story 
The world may read in me: M}^ body's mark'd 
AVith Roman swords: antl my report was once 
^irst with the best of note: Cymbeline lov'd me; 
And Avhen a soldier was the theme, my name^ 
Was not far biT: Then v/as I as a tree, 
Whose boughs did bend with fruit: but in one night, 
A storm, or robbery, call it what you will. 
Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my leaves, 
And left me bare to weather. 

Gui. Uncertain favour! 

Bel. My fault being nothing (as I have told you 
oft,). 
But that two villains, whose false oaths prevail'd 
Before my perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, 
''I was confederate with the Romans; so, 
Followed my banishment; and, this twenty years, 
This rock, and these demesnes, have been m}'^ world: 
Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid 
More pious debts to heaven, than in all ^ 

The fore-end of ray time. — But, up to the mountains; " 
This is not hunter's language: — He, that strikes 
The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feastj 
To him the other two shall minister; 
And we will fear no poison, which attends 
In place of greater state. 

THE FORCE OP NATURE. 

How hard it is to hide the sparks of nature! 



CYMBELINE. 197 

These boys know little they are sons to the king; 
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. 
They think they are mine: and, though train'd up 

thus meanly 
I' the cave, Avhercin they bow, their thoughts do hit 
The roofs of palaces; and nature prompts them, 
In siir.^^le and low things to prince it, much 
Beyond ^he trick of others. Tliis Polydore, — • 
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom 
The king his father call'd Guiderius, — Jove! 
When on my three-foot stool I sit, and tell 
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out 
Into my story: say, Thus mine enemy fell; 
*Rnd thus 1 set my foot on his neck; even then 
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, 
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in posture 
That acts my vvords. The younger brother, Cadwak( 
(Once Arviragus,) in as like a figure, 
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much more 
His o^vn conceiving. 

SLANDER. 

No, 'tis slander; 
Whose edge is sharper than (he sword; whose tongue 
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose breath 
Rides on the posting winds, and doth belie 
All corners of the v/orld: kings, queens, and states, 
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave 
This viperous slander enters. 

A wife's IX-NOCENCY. 
False to his bed! What is it, to be false? 
To lie in watch there, and to think on him? 
To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep charge na- 
ture, 
To brealc it with a fearful dream of him, 
And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed? 

" WOMAN IN man's apparel. 

You must forget to be a woman; change 
Command into obedience; fear and niceness, 
^The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, 
■Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish couragej 

17* 



198 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and 
As quarrelous as the weasel: nay, you must 
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, 
Exposing it (but, O, the harder he?rt! 
Alack no remedy !) to the greedy touch 
Of common-kissing Titian;^ and forget 
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein 
You made great Juno angry. 

SCENE. Before the Cave of Belarius. 
Enter Imogen, in Boifs Clothes. 
Imo. I see, man's life is a tedious one: 
1 have tir'd myself; and for two nights together 
Have made the ground my bed. I should be sick, 
iJut that my resolution helps me. — Milford, 
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd thee, 
Thou wast within a ken: O Jove! I think, 
Foundations fly the wretched: such, I mean, [me, 
When they should be relinv'd. Two beggars tol4 
I could not miss my Avay : Will poor folks lie. 
That have afflictions on them; knowing 'tis 
A punishment, or trial? Yes, no wonder, 
When rich ones scarce tell true: To lapse in fulness 
Is sorer, than to lie for need: and falsehood 
Is worse in kings than beggars. — My dear lord' 
Thou art one o' the false ones: Now I think on thee. 
My hanger's gone; but even before, I was 
At point to sink for food. — But what is this.'' 
Here is a path to it: 'Tis some savage hold: 
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet famine, 
Ere clean it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant. 
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness ever 
Of hardiness is mother. 

LViJOUR. 

Weariness 
Can snore upon the flint, when reitive sloth 
Finds the down pillow hard. 

HARMLESS INNOCENCE. 

Imo. Good master harm me not: 
Before I enter'd here, I eall'd; and thought 

•The sun. 



CYMBELINE. 199 

To have begg'd, or bought, what 1 have took: Good 

troth, 
I have stolen naught; nor would not though 1 had 

found 
Gold strew'd o' the floor. Here's money for my meat 
1 would have left it on the board, so soon 
A's I had made my meal; and parted 
With pra3'ers for the provider. 
; Gui. Money, youth? 

Jlrv. All gold and silver rather tur^ to dirt! 
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of those 
Who worship dirty gods. 

ACT IV. 

BRAGGART. 

To who? to thee? What art th'bu? Have not I 
.An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? 
Thy words, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not 
j^Iy dagger in my mouth. 

VOOL-HARDINESS. 

Being scarce made up, 
I mean, to man, he had not apprehension 
Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgment 
Is oft the cause of fear. 

INBORN ROYALTY. 

O thou goddess. 
Thou divine nature, how thyseh''thou blazon'st 
In these two princely bdys! They are as gentle 
As zephyrs blowing below the violet, 
Not wagging his sweet head: and yet as rough, 
Their royal blood encbaf'd, as the rud'stwind, 
That by the top dolh take i\\e mountain pine, 
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonderful 
That an invisible instinct should frame thena 
To royalty unlearn'd; honour untaught; 
Civility not seen from other: valour, 
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop 
j^s if it had been sow'd. 

, Enter Arviragus, bearing Imogen, as dead, in his 
arms. 



200 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Bel. Look, here he comes 

And brings the dire occasion in his arms, 
Of what we blame him for ! 

Jlrv. The bird is dead 

That we have made so much on. I had rather 
Have skipp'd from sixteen j^ears of age to sixty, 
To have turn'd my leaping time itito a crutch, 
Than to have seen this. 

Gui. O sweetest, fairest lily ! 

My brother w^rs thee not the one half so well, 
As" when thou grew'st thyself. 

Bel. O, melancholy 

Whoever yet could sound thy bottom i* find 
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare* 
Might easiliest harbour in? — Thou blessed thing: 
Jove knows what man thou mjght':tt have made; but I, 
Thou died'st a most rare boy of melancholy! — 
How found you him? 

Jlrv. Stark, t as you see: 

Thus smiling, as some lly had tickled slumber, 
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at: his right cheek 
Reposing en a cushion. 

Ckii. Where? 

Jlrv. O' the floor; 

His arras thus leagu'd: 1 thought, he slept; and put 
My clouted brogues:}: from otf my feet, whose rude- 
Answer'd my steps too loud. [ness 

GuL " ^^' 'ija lie but sleeps; 

If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed; 
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, 
And worms will not come to thee. 

A/v. With fairest flowers. 

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here. Fidele, 
I'll pweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack 
The tlower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor 
The azur'd hare-bell like thy reins: no, nor 
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, * 
Out-swcpten'd not thy breath; the ruddock§ would 
With charitable bill (0 bill, sore-shaming 

* Slow-sailing, unwieldy vessels ^t SiifT. 

4: Shoes plated with iror. § The recMv ;asu 



CYM13ELINE. 201 

Those rich-left heirs, that let their fathers lie 
Without a monument!) bring thee all this; 
Yea and furr'd moss besides, when flowers are nonCj 
To winter-groi:nd* thy corse. 

***** 

Bel Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: for 
Cloten 
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys: 
And, though he came our enemy, remember, 
He was paiilj for that: Though mean and mighty, 

rotting 
Together, have one dust; yet reverence, 
(That angel of the world,) doth make distinction 
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was princely; 
And though you took his life, as being our foe, 
Yet bury him as a prince. 

Crui. Fray fbu, fetch him hither, 

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax, 
When neither are alive. 

FUNERAL DIRGE. 

Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 

Nor the furious winter's rages; 
Thou thy worldly task hast done, 

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: 
Golden lads and girls all must, 
As chimney-sweepers come to dust. 
Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great, 

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; 
Care no more to clothe and eat; 
. To thee the reed is as the oak: 
The sceptre, learning physic, must 
All follow this, and come to dust. 
Chii. Fear no more the lightning-flash, i 

Jlrv, Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; 
Gui. Fear not slander, censure^ rash; 
Jirv. Thou hast tinish'djoy and moan: 
Both. All lovers, young, ail lovers must 

Consign § to thee, and come to dust. 

* Probably a corrupt reading for wither round thy 
corse. *t Punished. 

X Judgment. § Seal the same contract. 



202 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Gtii. No exerciser harm thee ! 
Arv. Nor no witchcrai't charm thee! 
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee ! 
^^rv. Nothing ill come near thee! 
Both. Qaiet consummation have; 
And renowned be thy grave! 

IMOGEN A^VAZING. 

Yes, sir, to Milibrd-Haven; 
Which is the way ? 

[ thank you — By yon bush? — Pray, how far thither? 
-'Ods pittikin?-!* — can it be six miles yet? 
I have gone all night: — 'Faith, I'll lie down and sleep, 
But, soft! no bedfellow: — 0, gods and goddesses! 

[Seeing the body. 
These flowers are like the pleasures of the vrorld| 
This bloody man, the care on't. — I hope, I dream; ' 
For, so, 1 thou^^ht I was a cave-keeper, 
And cook to honest creatures: But 'tis not so; 
'Twas but a boltf of nothing, shot at nothing, 
Which the brain makes of fumes: Our very eyes, 
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind, good faith, 
I tremble still with fear: but if thera be 
iTet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! 
The dreami's here still: even when I wake, it is 
Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt. 



ACT V.^ 

A ROUTED ARMY. 

No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, 
But that the heavens fought : The king himself 
Of his wings destitute, the army broken, 
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying 
Through a straight lane; the enemy full-hearted, 
Lolling the tongue Avith slaughtering, having work 
More plentiful than tools to do't, struck down 
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling 

* This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my 
pity. fAn arrow. 



HAMLET. 20S 

Merely through fearj that the straight pass was 

damm'd* 
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living 
To die with lengthen'd shame. 

DEATH. 

I, in mine own wo charm'd, 
Could not find death, where I did hear him groan; 
Nor feel him where he struck: Being an ugly mon- 
ster, 
'Tis strange, he hiues him in fresh cups, soft beds, 
Sweet words; or hath more ministers than we 
That draw his knives i' the war. 



HAMLET. 
ACT L 

PRODIGIES. 

In t'lic most high and palmyt state of Rome, 
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell. 
The graves stood tcnantless, and the sheeted dead 
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets 

As, stars with trains of fire and dews of blood. 
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,:j: 
Upon wnoss I'liluence Neptune's empire stands, 
Was sick almc^-t to doomsday with eclipse. 

GHOSTS VANISH AT THE CROWING OF A COCK. 

Ber. It was about to speak when the cock crew. 

Ix^jr. And then it starLec! like a guilty thing 
Upon a i'-n- ful summons. I have heard, 
The cock, .iutt is the trumpet of the morn. 
Doth v»'ith his lofty and shrill sounding throat 
Awake the god of day; and, at his warning, 
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air, 
The extravagant and erring§ spirit hies 
To his confine: and of the truth herein 
This present object made probation. || 

* Blocked up. t Victorious. ;j: The moon. 
i § Wandering. II Proof. 



204 iJr.Au iiiiis OF SHAKSPEARE. 

THE REVERENCE PAID TO CHRISTMAS TIME, 

It faded on the crowing of the cock. 
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season comes 
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, 
This bird of dawning singeth all night long; 
And then they say no spirit dares stir abroad; 
The nights are wholesome; then no planets strike, 
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm. 
So hallow'd and so gracious is tl?.e time. 

MORNING. 

But, look, the morn, in russet mantle clad. 
Walks o'er the dew of yen high eastern hill. 

REAL GRIEF. 

Seems, mac! am! nay, it is; I know not seems. 
'Tis not alone, my inky cloak, good mother, 
Nor customary suits of solemn black, 
Nor windy suspiration of forc'd breath, 
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye, 
Nor the dejected 'haviour of the visage. 
Together with all form-, modes, ^hows of grief. 
That can denote me truly: Thnse, indeed, seem, 
For they are acticns. that a man might play: 
But I have that within jV>'hich passeth show; 
These, but the trappings and the suits of wo. 

IMMODERATE GRIEF DISCOMMENDED. 

'Tis sweet and commendable in your nature, Ham- 
let, 
To give these mourning duties to your father; 
But, you must know, your father lost a father; 
That father lost his; and the survivor bound 
In filial obligation, for some term 
To do obsequious sorrow: But to persevere 
In obstinate condolement; is a course 
Of impious stubbornness; 'tis unmanly grief: 
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven: 
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient; 
An understanding simple and anschooi'd: 
For what, we know, must be, and is as common^ 
As any the most vulgar thing to sense. 
Why should we, in our peevish opposition. 



xuaMLET. 205 

Take it to heart? Fie ! 'tis a fault to heaven, 
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, 
To reason most absurd; -whose common theme 
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried. 
From the first corse, till he that dk.d to-day, 
This must be so. 
h\mli:t's soLiLOQur on his mother's marriage. 

O, that thistoo-too solid flesh would melt. 
Thaw, and resolve* itself into a dew! 
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd 
His canont 'gainst seli-slaughter ! O God! G-od! 
How weary, stale, fiat, and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the uses of this world ! 
Fie on't! O tie! 'tis an unv/ecded garden. 
That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross m nature, 
Possess it merely4 That it should come to this! 
But two months dead!— nay, not so much, not two: 
So excellent a king; that was, to this, 
Hvperion§ to a satyr : so loving to my mother. 
That he might not'betepmH the winds of heaven 
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! 
Must I remember? why, she would hang on him, 
As if increase of appetite had grown 
Bv what it fed on: And yet, within a month,— 
Let me not thinK on't;— Frailty, thy name is wo- 
man! — 
A little month; or ere those shoes were old. 
With which she follow'd my poor father's body, 
Like Niobe, all tears;— why she, even she,— 
O heaven! a beast, that wants discourse ot reason 
Would have mourn'd longer— married with my 

uncle, 
My father's brother; but no more like my father, 
Than 1 to Hercules: Within a month: 
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 
* She married :— O .most wicked speed, to post 
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! 
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good. 

* Dissolve. 1- Law. t Entirely, 

§ Apollo. )1 Suffer. 

18 



206 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

THE EXTENT OF HUMAN PERFECTION. 

He was a man, take him for all in all, 
I shall not look upon his like again. 

CA.UTIONS TO YOUNG FEMALES. 

For Hamlet, and the triUing of his favour, 
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood: 
A violet in the youth of piimy nature, 
Forward, not permanent, sweet,, not lasting, 
The perfume and suppliaiice of a minute: 

No more. 

# * * * # 

Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain, 

If with too credent* ear you listf his songs; 

Or lo>e your heart: or your chaste treasure open 

To his nnmaster'dij: im})ortunity. 

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; 

And keep you in the rear of year affection, 

Oat of the shot and danger of desire. 

The chariest§ maid is prodigal enough, 

If she unmask her beauty to the moon: 

Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes: 

Tiie canker galls the infants of the spring. 

Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd; 

And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 

Contagious blastments are most|^mniinent. 

SATIRE ON UNGRACIOUS PASTORS. 

I shall the effect of this good lesson keep, 
As ivatchm.cn to my heart: But, good my brother, 
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, 
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven; 
Whilst, like a piiif 'd and rccklessjl libertine, 
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads. 
And recks not his own reed. IF 

ADVICE TO A SON fiOTNG TO TRAVEL. 

Give thy thoughts no tongue. 
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. 
Be thou fajniliar, but by no means vulgar. 
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 

* Believing. f Listen to. ± Licentious. 

§ Most cautious. 11 Careless. 

'S Rewards not his own lessons. 



HAMLET. 207 

Grappie them to ihy soul with hooks oi steel; 
But do not dull thy palm* with entert&inment 
Of each new-hatch'd, unfiodg'd comrade. Beware 
Of entrance lo a quarrel: but, being in, 
Bear it that the opposer maj' beware ofthee. 
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: 
Take each man's censure,! hut reserve ihy judg 

mont. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
}jut not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy: 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man; 
And they in France, of th,^. best rank and station, 
Are most select and generous,]: chief § in that. 
Neither a borrower, nor a lentior be: 
For loan oft 'oses both iiself and tj^iend; 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. || 
Thi.3 above all, — To thine own self be true: 
And it must follow, as the night the day. 
Thou canst not then be faJse lo any man. 

HAMLET OJif THE APPE1.R.ANCE OF HIS FATHER'S 
* GHOST. 

Angels and ministers4)f grace defend usf— 
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd. 
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell 
Be thy intents wicked or charitable. 
Thou com'st in such a questionableTT shape. 
That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee Hamlet, 
King, father, royal Dane: O, answer me: 
Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell 
Why thy canoniz'd bones, hearsed in death. 
Have burst their cerements! why the sepulchre. 
Wherein we s-aw thee quietly in-urn'd, 
Hatho^j'd his ponderous and marble jaM's, 
To cast thee up again ! What may this mean, 
That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel 
"Revisit'st thus the glimpses of the moon, 
Making ifiight hideous; and we fools of nature, 

* Palm of the hand. t Opinion. t NoLle. 
§ Chiefly. II Econo?riy. IT Cunveisublc. 



208 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

So horribly to shake our disposition,* 

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls? 

THE MISCHIEFS IT MIGHT TEMPT HIM TO. 

What, if it tempt you toward the flood, my lord, 
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff. 
That beetlesf o'er his base. into the sea? 
And there assume some other horrible form, 
Which might deprive your sovereignty of reason, 
And draw you into madness? think of it: 
The Aery place puts toys| of desperation, 
Without more motive, into every brain, 
That looks so many fathoms to the sea, 
And hears it roar beneath. 

SCENE. Jl mors remote part of the Platform. 
Re-enter Ghost and Hainilet. 

Ham, Whither wilt thou lead me? speak, I'll go 
no further. 

Ghost. Mark me. 

Ham. I will. 

Ghost. My hour is almost come. 

When 1 to sulphurous and tormenting fifcmes 
Must render up myself. ^ 

Ham. Alas, poor ghost ! 

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
To what I shall unfold. 

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear. 

Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt 

Ham. What.-^ [hear. 

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit; 
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night; 
And, for the day, coniin'd to fast in fires, 
Till th6 foul crimes, done in mv days of nature. 
Are burnt and purg'd away. But that I am forbid 
To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
Would harrovv^ up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; 
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their 

spheres; 
Thy knotted and combined locks to part, 

* Frame. t Hantrs. t Whims. 



HAMLET. 209 

Like quills upon the fretful porcupine: 

But this eternal blazon* must not be 

To ears of flesh and blood:— List, list, O list I— 

If ever thou didst thy dear father love. 

Ham. O heaven ! 

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural mur- 
der. 

Ham. Murder! 

Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is; 
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. 

Hmi. Haste me to know it; that I, with wings as 
swift 
As meditation, or the thoughts of love. 
May sweep to my revenge. 

Ghost. I find thee apt; 

And duller should'st thou be than the fat weed 
That rots itself in ease on Lethe wharf, 
Would'st thou not stir in this. Now, Hamlet, hear* 
'Tis given out, that sleeping in my orchard,! 
A serpent stung rne; so the whole ear of Denmark 
Is by a forged process of my death 
Rankly abus'd: but know, thou noble youth, 
The serpent that did sting thy father's life, 
Now wears his crown. 

Ham. O, my prophetic soul! my uncle! 

Ghost. Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate beast, 
With witchcraft of his wit, Avith traitorous gifts, 
(0 wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power 
So to seduce!) won to hisshamtlul lust 
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen: 
O, Hamlet, what a falling-off was there! 
From me whose love was of that dignity. 
That it Avent hand in hand even with the vow 
I made to her in marriage; and to decline 
Upon a wretch whose natural gifts were poor 
To those of mine ! 

But virtue, as it never will be mov'd. 
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven; 
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, 

* Display, f Garden. 

18* 



210 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Will sate* itself in a celestial bed, 

And prey on garbage. 

But, soft! melhinks, I scent the morning air; 

Brief let me be: — Sleeping within mine orchard. 

My custom always of the afternoon, 

Upon my secure hour thy uncle stole, 

With juice of cursed hebenonf in a vial, 

And in the oorches of mine ears did pour 

The leperous distilment: whose effect 

Holds such an enmity with blood of man, 

That swift as quicksilver, it courses through 

The natural gates and alleys of the body; 

And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset- 

And curd, like eager droppings into milk, 

The thin and wholesome blood: so did it mine; 

And a most instant tertie+ bark'd about. 

Most lazar-§like, vile and loathsome crust. 

Ail my smooth body. 

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand,. 

Of life, of crown, of queen, at once despatch'd:|j 

Cut off even in the blossoms of mj^ sin, 

Unhousel'd,1I disappointed,** unanel'djff 

No reckoning made but sent to my account 

With all my imperfections on my head: 

O, horrible! O, horrible! most horrible! 

If thou hast nature in thee, bear it not: 

Let not the royal bed of Denmark be 

A couch for luxury and damned incest. 

But, howsoever tbou pursu'st this act, 

Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 

Against thy mother aught; leave her to heaven, 

And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge. 

To prick and sting her. Fare thee well at once: 

The glow-worm shows the matin to be near. 

And 'gins to pale his uneffeclual fire: 

Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me. [Exit. 

* Satiate. f Henbane. t Scab, scurf. 

§ Leprous. 11 Bereft. 

If Without havinsf received the Sacrament 

** Unappointed, unprepared. 

tt Without extreme unction. 



HAMLET. 211 

Ham. O all you host of heaven! earth! What 

else ? 
And shall I couple hell? — O fie! — Hold, hold, mj 

heart; 
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, 
But bear me stiffly up! — Remember thee? 
Ay, thou poor ghost, ^vhile memory holds a seat 
In this distracted globe.* Remember thee? 
Yea, from the table of my memory 
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records. 
All sawsf of books, all forms, all pressures past. 
That youth and observation copied there; 
And thy commandment all alone shall live 
Within the book and volume of my brain, 
Unmix'd with baser matter: yes, by heaven, 
O most pernicious woman' 
O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! 
My tables,:{: — meet it is. I set it doAvn, 
That one may smile, and sm.ile, and be a villain: 
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark: 

[ Writing, 
So, uncle, there you are. Now to my word; 
it is, Adieu, adieu! remember me. 

ACT II. 

OPHELIA'S DESCRIPTION OF HAMLET'S TilAD 
ADDRESS TO ITER. 

My lord, as I was sewing in my closet. 
Lord Hamlet, — with his doublet all unbrac'd; 
No hat upon his head; his stockings fouPd, 
Ungarter'd, and doAvn-gyved§ tohis ankle; 
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each other, 
And with a look so piteous in purport, 
As if he had been loosed out of hell. 
To s])eak of horrors, — he comes before me. 

Pol Madfor thy love? 

Oph. My Id^d, I do not know: 

But, truly, I do fear it. 

* Head. t Sayings, sentences. 

t Memorandum-book. 

§ Hanging down like fetters. 



212 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Pol. What said he? 

Qph. He took me by the wrist, and held mo hard; 
Then goes he to the length of all his arm; 
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow, 
He falls to such perusal of my face, 
As he would draw it. Long ptay'd he so; 
At last — a little shaking of mine arm. 
And thrice his head thus waving up and down, — 
He rais'd a sigh so piteous and profound, 
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk,* 
And end his being: That done, he lets me go 
And, with his head over his shoulder turn'd, 
He seem'd to find his way without his eyes: 
For out o' doors he went without their helps. 
And, to the last, bended their light on me. 

OLD AGE. 

iieshrew my jealousy ! 
It seems it is as proper to our age 
To cast beyond ourselves in. our opinions, 
As it is common for the younger sort 
To lack discretion. 

HAPPINESS CONSISTS IN OPrNTON. 

Why, then 'tir, none to you; for there is nothing 
either good or bad, but thinking makes it so; to me 
it is a prison. 

REFLECTIONS ON I.rAN. 

I have of late, (but, wherefore, I know not,) lost 
all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises: and 
indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition, that 
this goodly frame, tbe earth, seems to me a sterile 
promontory; this most excellent, canopy, the air, look 
you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this ma- 
jestical roof fretted v/ilh golden fii-e, why it ap- 
pears no other thing to me, than afoul and pestilent 
congregation of va[)0urs. What a piece of Avork is 
man! How noble i^ reason! how infinite in faculties! 
in form and moving, how express and admirable ! in 
action, how like an angel! in apprehension, how like 

* Body. 



HAMLET. ' 218 

a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of 
animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence 
of dust? Man delights not me, nor woman neither; 
though, by your smiling, you seem to say so. 
hamlet's reflections on the player and 

HIMSELF. 

O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I! 
Is it not monstrous, that this player hero, 
But in a fiction, in a dream oi* pap<iion, 
Could force his seal to his own conceit. 
That from her working, all his vi^ao'e wann'd; 
1 ears m his eyes, Ciistraction m's a.spect, 
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
With forms to his conceit.'' And all for nothing! 
For Hecuba ! 

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hscuba, 
That he should weep for her? AVhat would he do, 
Had he the motive and the cue for passion 
That I have? He would drown the stage with tears. 
And cleave the general ear with horrid speech; 
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free, 
Confound the ignorant; and amaze, indeed, 
The very faculties of eyes and ears. 
Yet I, 

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak, 
Like John a-dreams, unpregnant of my cause, 
And can say nothing; no, not for a king. 
Upon whose property, and most dear life, 
A damn'd defeat was made. Am I a coward? 
Wh.o calk me villain? breaks my pate across? 
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? 
Tweaks me by the nose? gives me the lie i'tl-e 

throat. 
As deep as to the lungs? Who docs me this? 
Ha! 

Why, I should take it: for it canuot be, 
But I am pigeon liver'd, and lacK%all 
To make oppression bitter; or, ere this, 
I should have fatted all the region kitos 
With this slave's offal: Bloody, bawuy villain ! 
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kir.dless villain ! 



214 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Why, what an ass am I? This is most brave^. 

That I, the son of a dear father murder'd, 

Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, 

Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with words, 

And fail a cursing, like a very drab, 

A scullion. 

Fie upon't! fob! About my brains! Humph! I have 

heard. 
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, 
Have by the verj' cunning of the scene 
Been struck so to the soul, that presently 
They have proclaimed their malefactions: 
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
With most miraculous organ. I'll have these players 
Play something like the murder of my father, 
Before mine uncle: I'll observe his looks; 
I'll tent him to the quick; if he do blench, 
I know my course. The spirit I have seen, 
May be a devil: and the devil hath power 
To assume a pleasing shape; yea, and, perhaps, 
Out of my weakness, and my meianchol}^, 
(As he is very potent with such spirits) 
Abuses me to damn me: I'll have grounds 
More relative than this: The play's the thing 
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. 

ACT III. 

HYPOCRISY. 

We are oft to blame in this. 
'Tis too much prov'*!, — that, with devotion's visage. 
And pious action, we do sugar o'er 
The devil himself. 

King. O, 'tis too true! how smart 

A lash that speech doth give my conscience ! 
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering art, 
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it. 
Than is my deed to my most painted word. 

S0LIL0Q,UY 0I*r LIFE AND DEATH. 

'To be, or not to be, that is the question: — 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to sulfiier 



HAMLET. 215 

The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; 

Or totaJke arms against a sea of troubles, 

And by o])posing, end them? — To die, — to sleep, — 

No more; — and, hy a sleep, to say we end 

The heartrach, and the thousand natural shocks 

That ilesh is heir to, — 'tis a consummation 

Devoutly to be wish'd. To die; — to sleep; — - 

To slefp! perchance to dream; — ay, there's the rub: 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,* 

Must o-ive us pause: There's the respect, f 

That makes calamity of so long life: 

For who would bear the whips and scoi-ns of time, 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely ,| 

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 

The insolence of office, and the spurns 

That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 

When he himself might his quietus§ make 

With a bare bodkin rjl who^ -would fardelsU bear, 

To grunt and sweat under *a weary life; 

But that the dread of something after death, — 

The undlscover'd country from whose bourn** 

No traveller returns,-— puzzles the will; 

And makes u& rather bear those ills we have, 

Than fly to others that we ':now not of! 

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 

And thus the native hue of resolution 

Is sicklied o'er with the pale ca^t of thought; 

And enterprises of great pith and moment. 

With this regard, their currents turn away, 

And lose the name of action. 

CALUMNV. 

Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou 
shalt not escape calumny. 



O, what a noble mind is here o4i|'thrown ' 



A DISORDERED MIND. 

The courtier's, soldier's, schoiar's,eye, tongue, sword: 
The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 

* Stir, b'Ustle. t Considerp.tioR, } Rudeness. 

§ Acquittance. || The ancient term for a small dagger. 

U Pack, burden. '■^-' Boandarv, limits. 



JI6 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The glass of fashion, and the mould* of form. 
The observ'd of all observers! quite, quite (down! 
And I, of ladies most deject and wretched, 
That suck'd the honey of his music vows, 
Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, 
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh: 
That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth 
Blasted with ecstasy. f 

hamt,et's instructions to the players. 

Speak the speech, I pray yo':;. as I pronounced it to 
you, trippingly on the tonoue: but if you mouth it, 
as many of our players do, I had as lief the town-crier 
spoke my lines. IS^or do not saw the air too much 
with your hand, thus: but use all gently:;- for in the 
very torrent, tempest, and (as I may say) whirlwind 
cf your passion, you must acquire and beget a tem- 
perance that may give it smoothness. O, it offends 
me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated 
fellow tear a passion to tatters, to very rags, to split 
the ears of the groundlings;:}: who, for the most part, 
are capable of nothing but inexplicable dumb shows, 
and noise: ! vv'ould have such a fellow whipped for 
out-doing Termagant; it out-herods Herod.§ Pray 
you, avoid it. 

Flay. I warrant your honour. 

Ham. Be not too tame neither, but let your own 
discretion be your tutor: suit the action to the word, 
the word to the action; with this special observance, 
that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature: for 
any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, 
whose end, both at the first, and now, was, and is, to 
hold, as 'twere the mirror up to nature; to show 
virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and 
the very age and body of the time his form and 
pressure. IF Now this, overdone, or come tardy off, 

* The model by whom all endeavoured to form them 
selves. t Alienation of mind. 

t The meaner people then seem to have sat in the pit. j 
§ Herod's character was ahvays violent, 
IT Impression, resemblance. 



HAMLET. 2i7 

though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make 
the judicious grieve; the censure of which one, must 
in your allowance,* overweigh a whole theatre of 
others. O, there be players, that I have seen play, 
— and heard others praise, and that highly, — not to 
speak it profanely, that, neither having the accent 
of christians, nor the gait of christian, pagan, nor 
man, have so strutted, and bellowed, that I have 
thought some of nature's journeymen had made men, 
and not made them well, they imitated humanity so 
abominaWy. 

Play. I hope^. we have reformed that indifferently 
with us. 

Ha7n. 0, reform it altogether. And, let those that 
play your clowns, speak no more than is set down 
for them, for there be of them, that w^ll themselves 
laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators 
to laugh too; though in the meantime, some necessary 
questionf of the play be then to be considered: 
that's villanous; and shows a most pitiful ambition 
in the fool that uses it. 

ON FLATTERY, AND AN EVEN-MiNDED MAN. 

Nay, do not think I flatter: 
For what advancement mQ.y I hope from thee, 
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits. 
To feed and clothe thee ? Why should the poor be 

flatter'd ? 
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd Domp; 
And crook the pregnant:|: hinges of the knee. 
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou hear.' 
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice, 
And could of men distinguish her election, 
She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast been 
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, 
A man that fortune's buffets and rewards 
Hast ta'en with equal thanks: and blessed are those 
Whose blood and judgment are so well co-mingled, 
That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger 



Approbation. f Conversation, discourse. 



t Quick, ready. 
19 



2IS BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To sound what stop she please : Give me that man 
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
In my heart's core, ay in my heart of heart, 
As I do thee. 

MIDNIGHT. 

'Tis now the very witching time of night; 
\Vi>en churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out 
Contagion to this world: Now could I drink hot 

blood. 
And do such business as the bitter day 
Would quake to look on. Soft; now to my mother.— 
O, heart, lose not thy nature; let not ever 
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom: 
Let me be cruel, not unnatural: 
I will speak daggers to her, but use none. 

THE king's LESPAIRING S0LIL0Q.UY, AND HAMLET'S 
REFLECTIONS ON HIM. 

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven; 
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, 
A brother's murder ! — Pray can I not. 
Though inclination be as sharp as will: 
My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; 
And, like a man to double business bound, 
1 stand in pause where I shall first begin, 
And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood? 
Is there not rain enough in the SAveet heavens. 
To wash it white as snow? Whereto serves mercy, 
But to confront the visage of offence? 
A nd Avhat's in prayer, but this two-fold force, — 
To be forestalled ere we come to fall. 
Or pardon'd, being down? Then I'll look up; 
My fault is past. Bat, O, what form of prayer 
Can serve my turn? Forgive me my foul murder! 
That cannot be; since 1 am still possess'd 
Of those effects for which I did the murder, 
My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 
May one be pardon'd, and retain the offence ? 
In the corrupted currents of this world, 
Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice ; 
And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself. 



HAMLET. 219 

Buys out the law: But 'tis not so above: 

There is no shuffling, there the action lies 

In his true nature; and we ourselves compell'd, 

Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, 

To give in evidence. What then? what rests' 

Try what repentance can: What can it not? 

Yet what can it, when one cannot repent? 

O Avretched state ! bosom, black as death ! 

O limid* soul; that struggling to be free. 

Art more engag'd! Help angels, make assay! 

Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of 

steel; 
Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe; 
All may be well ! [Retires and kneels. 

Enter Hamlet. 

Ham. Now might I do it pat, now he is praying; 
And now I'll do't; and so he goes to heaven: 
And so am I reveng'd? That would be scann'drf 
A villain kills my father; and, for that, 
I, his sole| son, do this same villain send 
To heaven. 

Why, this is hire and salary, § not revenge. 
He took my father grossly, full of bread; 
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May. 
And, how his audit stands, who knows, save heaven? 
But, ill our circumstance and course of thought, 
'Tis heavy with him: And am I then reveng'd, 
To take him in the purging of his soul, 
When he is fit and seasonM for his passage? 
No. 

Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:]] 
When he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage: 
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed; 
At gaming, swearing; or about some act 
That has no relish of salvation in't: 
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven: 
And that his soul may b6 as damn'd, and black, 
As hell, whereto it goes. 

* Caught as with bird-lime. 

t Should be considered. ^ Only. 

§ Reward. li Seize liim at a more horrid (ime. 



i30 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

HAMLET AND HIS MOTHER. 

Queen. What have I done, thou dar'st wag thy 
tongue 
In noise so rude against me? 

Ham J Such an act, 

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty; 
Calls virtue, hypocrite; takes off the rose 
From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
And sets a blister there; makes marriage vows 
As false as dicers' oaths: O, such a deed 
As from the body of contraction* plucks 
The very soui; and sweet religion makes 
A rhapsody of words: heav'n's face doth glow; 
Yea, this solidity and compound mass. 
With tristfulf-visage, as against the doom, 
Is thought-sick at the act. 

Queen. Ah me, what act, 

That roars so loud, and thunders in the index ?|' 

Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this; 
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
See, what a grace was seated on this brow: 
Hyperion's§ curls; the front of Jove himself: 
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; 
A station II like the herald Mercury, 
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; 
A combination, and a form, indeed. 
Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
To give the world assurance of a man: 
This >vas your husband. — Look you no%v, what fol- 
lows; 
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear, 
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes? 
Could 5rou on this fair mountain leave to feed. 
And battenlT on this moor? Ha ! have you eyes? 
You cannot call it love; for, at your age. 
The hey-day in the blood is tame, 'tis humble, 
And Avaits upon the judgment: And what judgment 
Would step from this to this? Sense,** sure you have, 

* Marriage contract. f Sorrowful. 

% Index of contents prefixed to a book. 

§ Apollo's. II The act of standing, "ir To grow fat. 

** Sensation. 



HAMLET. 221 

Else, could you not have motion : But, sure, that 

sense 
Is apoplex'd; for madness would not err: 
Nor sense to ecstasy* was ne'er so thrall'd, 
But it reserv'd some quantity of choice, 
To serve in such a difference. What devil was't, 
That thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman blind If 
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight, 
Ears without hand or eyes, smelling sansj all, 
Or but a sickly part of one true sense 
Could not so mope,§ 

O shame! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, 
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones, 
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax. 
And melt in her own fire: Proclaim no shame, 
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge: 
Since frost itself as actively doth burn. 
And reason panders will. 

Queen. O Hamlet, speak no more . 

Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very soul; 
And there I see such black and grained spots. 
As will not leave their tinct. |1 

Enter Ghost. 

Ham. Save me, and hover o'er me with your wings. 
You heavenly guards! — What would your gracious 
figure? 

Queen. Alas, he's mad. 

Ham. Do you not come your tardy son tq chide, 
That, laps'd in time and passion, let's go by 
The important acting of your dread command? 
O, say! 

Ghost. Do not forget: This visitation 
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. 
But, look! amazement on thy mother sits: 
O, step between her and her fighting soul; 
Conceitir in w^eakest bodies strongest works; 
Speak to her, Hamlet. 

Ham. How is it with you, la 

Queen. Alas, how is't with you? 

♦ Frenzy. t Blindman's-buff. t Without. 

§ Be so stupid. 11 Colour V Imagination 

19* 



222 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

That you do bend your eye on vacancy, 
And with the incorporeal air do hold discourse? 
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep; 
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, • 
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,* 
Starts up, and stands on end. O, gentle son, 
Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper 
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look? 

Ham. On him! On him! — Look you, how pale he 
glares ! 
His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones, 
Would make them capable.! — Do not look upon me; 
Lest, with this piteous action, you convert 
My stern effects :+ then what 1 have to do 
A^ill want true colour; tears, perchance, § for blood. 

Queen. To whom do you speak this? 

Ham. Do you see nothing there? 

Queen. Nothing at all; yet all, that is, I see. 

Ham. Nor did you nothing hear? 

Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves. 

Ham. Why, look you there ! look, how it steals 
away ! 
My father, in his habit as he liv'd ! 
Look, where he goes, ev'n now, out at the portal! 

[Exit Ghost. 

Queen. This is the very coinage of your brain : 
This bodiless creation ecstasy || 
Is very cunning in. 

Ham. Ecstasy ! 

My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time. 
And makes as healthful music: It is not madness. 
That I have uttered: bring me to the test. 
And I the matter will re-word: which madness 
Would gambol from. Mother, for love of grace, 
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul. 
That not your trespass, but my madness speaks: 
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place; 
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, 

* The hair of animals is excreinentitious, that is, without 
life or sensation. 

t Intelligent. t Actions. 

§ Perhaps. ]] Frenr.y. , 



HAMiiET. 22a 

Infects unsecii. Confess yourself to heaven; 

Repent what's past; avoid what is to come; 

And do not spread the compost* on the weeds. 

To make them ranker. Forgive me this my virtue: 

For in the fatness of these pursy times, 

Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg; 

Yea, curbf and woo, for leave to do him good. 

Queen: O Hamlet ! thou hast cleft my heart in 
twain. 

Har.i. O, throw away the worser part of it, 
And live the purer wath the other half. 
Good night, but go not to my uncle's bed; 
Assume a virtue, if j^ou have it not. 
That monster, custom, Avho all sense doth eat 
Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this; 
That to the use of actions fair and good 
He likewise gives a frock, cr liverj'', 
'i'hat aptly is put on: Refrain to-night; 
And that shall lend a kind of easiness 
To the next abstinence: the next more easy: 
For use almost can change the stamp of nature, 
And either curb the devil, or throw him out 
With wondrous potency. Once more, good night! 
And when you are desirous to be biess'd, 
ril blessing beg of you.— For this same lord, 

[Pointing to PoLONius. 
I do repent: But heaven hath pleas'd it so, — 
To punish me with this, and this w-ith me. 
That I must be their scourge and minister. 
I will bestow^ him, and Avill ansAver w^eli 
The death I gave him. So, again, good night! 
I must be cruel, onl}'^ to be kind: 
Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. — 
But one word more, good lady. 

Queen. What shall I do.** 

liam. Not this, by no means, that I bid you do: 
Let the bloat king tempt you again to bed; 
Pinch wanton on your cheek; call you his mouse ;:f 
And let him, for a pair of reechy§ kisses, 

* Manure. t Bend. ; A term of endearment. 
§ Steaming with heat. 



224 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd fingers, 

Make you to ravel all this matter out, 

That I essentially am not in madness, 

But mad in craft. 'Twere good, you let him know: 

For who, that's but a queen, fair, sober, wise, 

Would from a paddock* from a bat, a gih,t 

Such dear concernings hide? Who would do so? 

No, in despite of sense and secresy, 

Unpeg the basket on the house's top, 

Let the birds fly, and, like the famous ape, 

To try conclusions,! in the basket creep, 

And break your own neck down. 

Quee.i. Be thou assur'd, if words be made of breath, 
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe 
What thou hast said to me. 

Ham. I must to England: yoTi know that? 

Queen. Alack, 

I had forgot; 'tis so concluded on. 

Ham. There's letters seal'd: and my two school- 
fellows, — 
Whom I will trust, as I will adders fang'd,§ 
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way. 
And marshal me to knavery: Let it work; 
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer 
Hoist from his own petar:|| and it shall go hard, 
But I will delve one yard below their mines. 
And blow them at the moon. 

ACT IV 

hamlet's irresolution. 
How all occasions do inform against me, 
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man. 
If his chief good, and marketH of his time. 
Be but to sleep, and feed ? a beast, no more. 
Sure, he, that made us with such large discourse,** 
Looking before, and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike reason 

* Toad. t Cat. i Experiments. 

§ Having their teeth. 

I' Blown up with his own bomb TT Profit. 

** Power of comprehension 



HAMLET. 225 

To fust* in us unus'd. Now, whether it be 
Bestial oblivion, or some cravenf scruple 
Of thinking too precisely on the event. — 
A thought, which, quartered, hath but one part wis- 
dom, 
And, ever, three parts coward, — I do not know 
Why yet f live to say, This thing's to do; 
Sitht I have cause, and will, and strength, and 

means, 
To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me: 
Witness, this army of such mass, and charge. 
Led by a delicate and tender prince; 
Whose spirit, with divine ambition puff' d, 
Makes mouths at the invisible event; 
Ex])osing what .'S mortal, and unsure. 
To all that fortune, death, and danger, dare, 
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great, 
Is, not to stir without great argument; 
But greatly to find quarrel in a straw. 
When honour's at the stake. How stand I then. 
That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd 
Excitements of my reason, and my blood. 
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see 
The imminent death of twenty thousand men, 
That, for a fantasy, and trick of fame, 
Go to their graves like beds: fight for a plot 
Whereon the numbers cannot try the cause, 
AVhich is not tomb enough, and coniinent. 
To hide the slain : — O, from this time forth, 
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth! 

SORROWS RARELY SINGLE. 

O Gertrude, Gertrude, 
When sorro"\vs come, they come not single spief?. 
But in battalions! 

THE DIVINITY OF KINGS. 

Let him go, Gertrude; do not fear our person; 
There's such a divinity dolh hedge a king, 
That treason can but keep to what it would, 
Acts little of his will. 

* Grow mouldy. 

t Cowardly. ' t Since. 



226 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

DESCRIPTION OF OPHELIA'S DEATH. 

Queen. There is a willow grows ascaunt the brook, 
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream 5 
There with fantastic garlands did she make 
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples,* 
That liberalf shepherds give a grosser name, 
But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them: 
There on the pendant boughs her coronet weeds 

! Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke; 
Wlien down her weedy trophies, and herself, 
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; 
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up: 
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes; 
As one incapable} of her own distress. 
Or like a creature native and indu'd 
Unto that element: but long it could not be, 
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, 
PuU'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay 

"To muddy death. 

ACT V. 

hamlet's REFLECTIONS ON TORICK'S SCULL. 

Grave-digger. A pestilence on him for a mad 
rogue ! he poured a flagon of Rhenish on ray head 
once, this same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, the 
king's jester. 

Ham. This? [Takes the scull. 

Grave-digger. E'en that. 

Ham. Alas! poor Yorick! — I knew him, Horatio, 
a fellow of infinite jest; of most excellent fancy: he 
hath borne me on his back a thousand times; and 
now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! my gorge 
rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kissed 
I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now.-* 
your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, 
that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one 
now to mock your own grinning? quite chap-fallen? 
j^fow get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let 

.* Orchis morio mas. i I icentious. % Insensible. 



JULIUS CESAR. 227 

her paint an inch thick, to this favour* she must 
come; make her laugh at that. 

OPHELIA'S INTERMENT. 

Lay her i' the earth; 
And from her fair and unpolluted flesh, 
May violets spring! — I tell thee, churlish prif»<it, 
A ministering angel shall my sister be, 
When thou liest howling. 

MELANCHOLY. 

This is merr: madness: 
And thus awhile the fit will work on him. 
Anon, as patient as the female dove, 
When that her golden couplets are disclos'd,") 
His silence will sit drooping. 

PROVIDENCE DIRECTS OUR ACTIONS. 

And that should teach us, 
There's a divinity that shapes our ends 
Rough-hew them how we will. 

A HEALTH. 

Give me the cups; 
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak, 
The trumpet to the cannoneer without. 
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, 
Noio the kins; drinks to Hamlet. 



.JULIUS CESAR. 



ACT I. 



PATRIOTISM. 

WHAT is that you would impart to me.'' 
If it be aught toward the general good, 
Set honour in one eye, and death i' the othc'r. 
And I will look on both indifferently: 
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love 
The name of honour more than I fear death. 

CONTEMPT OP CASSIUS FOR CESAR. 

I was born free as Cesar; so v;ere you. 
• Countenance, complexion. t Hatched. 



223 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

We both have fed as well; and we can both 

Endure the winter's cold, as well as he. 

For once, upon a raw and gusty* day, 

The troubled Tiber chafing with her shores, 

Cesar said to me, Dar''st thou, Cassius, now 

Leap in with me into this migry flood ^ 

And swim to yonder point7 Upon the word, 

Accouter'd as I was, I plunged in. 

And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. 

The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it 

With lusty sinews; throwing it aside 

And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 

But ere we could arrive the point propos'd, 

Cesar cry'd, Help me, Cassius, or 1 sink. 

I, as jEneas, our great ancestor, 

Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 

The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of Tiber 

Did I the tired Cesar: And this man 

Is now become a god; And Cassius is 

A wretched creature, and must bend his body, 

If Cesar carelessly but nod on him. 

He had a fever when he was in Spain, 

And, when the fit was on him, I did mark, 

How he did shake: 'tis true, this god did shake: 

His coward lips did from their colour fly; 

And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the world, 

Did lose hi-s lustre: I did hear bim groan: 

Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the Romans 

Mark him, and v/rite his speeches in their books; 

Alas! it cried, Give me some drink, Titinius, 

As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 

A man of such a feeble temperj should 

So get the start of the majestic world, 

An-^. bear the palm alone. [Shout. Flourish. 

Bru. Another general shout ! 
I do believe, that these applauses are 
For some new honours that are heap'd on Cesar. 

Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the nano^v 
world, *^ 

* Windy. f Temperament, constitution. 



JULIUS CESAR. 229 

Like a Colossus: and wo petty men 

Walk under iiis huge legs, and peep about 

To find ourselves dishonourable graves. 

Men at some time are masters of their fates; 

The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 

But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 

Brutus, and Cesar: What should be in that Cesar.^ 

Why should that name be sounded more than yours.'' 

Write them together, yours is as fair a name; 

Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; 

Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure them, 

Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Cesar. [Shout. 

Now in the names of all the gods at once. 

Upon what meat doth this our Cesar feed, 

That he is grown so great? Age, thou art sham'd: 

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods! 

When went there by an age, since the great flood, 

But it was fam'd with more than with one man? 

Wlien could they say, till now. that talk'd of Rome^ 

That her wide walks encompassed but one man? 

CESAR'S DISLIKC OF CASSIUS. 

'Would he were fatter: — But I fear him not: 
Yet if my name were liable to fear, 
I do not know the man I should avoid 
So .soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much: 
He is a great observer, and he looks 
Quite through the deeds of men : he loves no plr'«. 
As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music: 
Seldom he smiles; and smiles in such a sort. 
As if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spii c 
That could be mov'd to smile at any thing; 
Such men as he be never at heart's case, 
AVhiles they behold a greater than themselvei 
And therefore are they very dangerous. 
I rather tell thee what is to be fear'd, 
Than whut I fear, for always I am Cesar. 

SPIRIT OP LIBERTY. 

I know where 1 will wear this dagger then ; 
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassius: 
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most strong. 
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do defeat: 
20 



230 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass. 
Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, 
Can be retentive to the strength of spirit; 
But life, being weary of these worldly bars, 
Never lacks power to dismiss itself. 
If I know this, know all the world besides, 
That part of tyranny, that I do bear, 
I can shake off at pleasure. 



ACT II. 

AMBITION CLOTHED ITT SPECIOUS HUMILITY. 

But 'tis a common proof,* 
That lowliness is 3'oung ambition's ladder. 
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face: 
But when he once attains the upmost round. 
He then unto the ladder turns his back. 
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degreesf 
By which he did ascend. 

CONSPIRACY DREADFUL TILL EXECUTED. 

Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
And the first motion, all the interim is 
Like a phantasma,:}: or a hideous dream: 
The genius, and the mortal instruments. 
Are then in council; and the state of man, 
lAl'^ to a little kingdom, suffers then 
The nature of an insurrection. 

BRUTUS'S APOSTROPHE TO CONSPIRACY. 

O conspiracy! 
8hani'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, 
When evils are most free! O, then, by day. 
^V^here wilt Ihou finii a cavern dark enough 
To mask thy monsirous \isage.'' Seek none, conspi- 

racy; 
Hide in it smiles, and affabiliiy : 
For if thou path thy native semblance§ on. 
Not Ercbusjl itseli were dim enough 
To hide thee from prevention. 

* Experience. + Low steps. i Visionary, 

§ Walk in thy true form. II HelL 



JULIUS CESAR 231 

AGAINST CRUELTY. 

Gentle friends. 
Let's kill him boldly, but not wrathfuUy; 
Let's carve him as a dish lit for tlic gods, 
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds; 
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do, 
Stir up their servants to an act of rage, 
And after seem to chide them. 

SLEEP. 

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: 
Thou hast no figures,* nor no fantasies, 
Which busy care drav/s in the brains of men; 
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. 

Portia's speech to brutus. 

You have ungently, Brutus, 
Stole from my bed; and yesternight at supper, 
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about. 
Musing, and sighing, with your arms across: 
And when I ask'd you what the matter was. 
You star'd upon me with ungentle looks: 
I urg'd you further; then you scratch'd your head, 
And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot: 
Yet I insisted, yet you ansv;ered not; 
But, with an angry wafture of your hand, 
Gave sign for me to leave you: So I did; 
Fearing to strengthen that impatience. 
Which seeem'dtoo much enkindled; and withal. 
Hoping that it was but an effect of humour 
Which sometime hath his hour with every man. 
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep: 
And, could it work so much upon j^our shape, 
As it hath much prevail'd on your condition ,T 
I should not knoAv you, Brutus. Dear my lord. 
Make me acquainted with your cause of grief. 

CALPHURNIA'S address to CESAR ON THE PRODI- 
GIES SEEN THE NIGHT- BEFORE HIS DEATH. 

Cal. Cesar, I never stood on ceremonies,:}: 
Yet now they fright me. There is one within, 

* Shapes created b} imagination. f Temper, 
t Never paid p. regard "-.r -rodigies or omens. 



212 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Besides the things that we have heard and seen, 

Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. 

A lioness hath whelped in the streets; 

And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead: 

Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds. 

In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, 

Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol: 

The noise of battle hurtled* in the air, 

Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan; 

And ghosts did shriek, and squealt about the streets. 

O Cesar! these things are beyond all use, 

And I do fear them. 

Ces. What can be avoided. 

Whose end is purpos'd by the mighty gods? 
Yet Cesar shall go forth: for these predictions 
Are to the world in general, as to Cesar. 

Cal. When beggars die, there are no comets seen, 
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of 
princes. 

AGAINST THE FEAR OF DEATH. 

Cowards die many times before their deaths; 
The valiant never taste of death but once. 
Of all the wonders that I j-^et have heard, 
It seems to me most strange that men should fear; 
Seeing that death, a necessary end, 
Will come, when it will come. 

DANGER. 

Danger knows full well 
That Cesar is more dangerous than he. 
We were two lions litter'd in one day, 
And I the elder and more terrible. 

ENVY. 

My heart laments that virtue cannot live 
Out of the teeth of emulation.! 

ACT III. 

ANTONY'S ADDRESS TO THE CORPSE OF CESAR. 

O, mighty Cesar! Dost thou lie so low? 
* Encountered. t Cry with pain, t Envy. 



JULIUS CESAR. 233 

I Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, 
Shrunk to this little measure ? — Fare thee well. 

ANTONY'S SPEECH TO THE CONSPIRATORS. 

I know not, gentlemen, what you intend. 
Who else must be let blood, who else is rank:* 
If I myself, there is no hour so fit 
(As Cesar's death's hour; nor no instrument 
ipr half that worth as those your swords, made rich 
i^ith the most noble blood of all this world. 
I do beseech ye, if jon bear me hard, 
Now, whilst your purpled hands do reek and smoke 
FuJ^l your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
I shall not find myself so apt to die: 
No place will please me so, no mean of death, 
As here by Cesar, and by you cut off, 
The choice and master spirits of this age. 

REVENGE. 

Cesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, 
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell, 
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, 
Cry Havoc,'\ and let slip| the dogs of waT. 

ERUTUS'S SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE. 

If there be any in this assembly, any dear frien-A 
of Cesar's; to him I say, that Brutus's love to Cesa/ 
was no less than his. If then that friend demand, 
why Brutus rose against Cesar, this is my answer, 
^ — Not that I loved Cesar less, but tiiat 1 ]ove;i Rome 
more. Had you rather Cesar were living, and die 
all slaves; than that Cesar were dead, to live all 
freemen? As Cesar loved me, I y^cep for him; as he 
was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I 
honour him; but, as he was ambitious, i slew him. 
There is tears for his love; joy, for his fortune: 
honour, for his valour; and death, for his ambition. 
Who is here so base, that would be a bendman.'' If 
any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so 

* Grown too high for the public safety. 

tThe signal for giving no quarter. 
, t To let slip a dog at a deer, &c. was the technical 
iivase of Shakspeare's time. 



234 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

rude, that would not be a Roman ? if any, speak; 
for him have 1 offended. Who is here so vile, that 
will not love his country? If any, speak; for him 
have I offended. 

Antony's funeral oration. 
Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend meyourearsj 
I come to bury Cesar, not to praise him. 
The evil, that men do, lives after them; 
The good is oft interred with their bones: 
So let it be with Cesar. The noble Brutus 
Hath told you, Cesar was ambitious: 
If it were so, it was a grievous fault; 
And grievously hath Cesar answer'd it. 
Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest, 
(For BruLUS is an honourable man; 
So are th?y all, all honourable men;) 
Come I to speak in Cesar's funeral. 
He was my friend, faithful and just to me: 
But Brutus says, he was ambitl-^--^^ ' 
And Brutus is an honourable niiiu. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 
Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; 
Did this in Cesar seem ambitious? 
When that the poor have cried, Cesar hath wept: 
Ambition should be made of sterrier stuff: 
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious; 
And Brutus is an honourable man. 
You all did see, that on the Lupercal, 
I thrice presented him a kingly crown. 
Which he did' thrice refuse. Was this ambition r 
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious; 
And, sure, he is an honourable man. 
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 
But here 1 am to speak v^hat I do know, 
You all did love him once, not without cause; 
What cause withholds you then to mourn for him? 
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts. 
And men have lost their reason ! — Bear with me; 
My heart is in the coffin there with Cesar, 
And I must pause till it come back to me. 



JULIUS CESAR. 286 

But yesterday, the word of Cesar might 

Have stood against the world: now lies he there, 

And none so poor* to do him reverence. 

masters! if I were dispos'd to stir 

Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 ehould do Brutus w-rong, and Cassius wrong, 
Who. you all knovv', are honourable men: 

I will not do them wrong; 1 rather choose 

To wrong the dead, to vvrong mjself and you, 

Than I will wrong such honourable men. 

But here's a parchment, with the seal of Cesar, 

I found it ia his closet, 'tis his will: 

Let but the commons hear this testament, 

(Which, pardon me, I do not mean to read,) 

And they would go and kiss dear Cesar's wounds, 

And dip their napkinsf in his sacred blood; 

Yea, beg a hair of him for memory. 

And, dying, mention it within their wills. 

Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy. 

Unto their issue. 

4 at. We'll hear the will: Read it, Mark Antony. 

at. The will, the v/ill; we will hear Cesar's will. 

Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not 
read it; 
It is not meet you know how Cesar lov'd you. 
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; 
And, being men, hearing the Avill of Cesar, 
It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 
^Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; 
For, if you should, 0, v/hat vvould come of it! 

4 al. Read the will; we will hear it, Antony; 
Y^ou shall read us the will : Cesar's will. 

Ayit. Will you be patient? Will you stay a while? 
I have o'ershot myself, to tell you of it, 
J fear, I wrong the honourable men, 
^Vhose daggers have stabb'd Cesar: I do fear it. 

4 at. They were traitors: Honourable men! 

Oit. The will! the testament! 

* The meanest man is now too liigh to do reverence to 
' *sar. t Handkerchiefs. 



236 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

2 Cit. They were villains, murderers: The will! 
Read the will! 

Jint. You will compel me then to read the will? 
Then make a ring about the corpse of Cesar, 
And let me show j^ou him that made the will. 
Shall I descend? And will you give me leave? 

Cit. Come down. 

2 Cit. Descend. [He comes down from the pulpit. 
***** 

A7it. If ycu have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle: I remember 
The fir&t time ever Cesar put it on; 
'Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent; 
That day he overcame the Nervii: — 
Look: in this place, ran Cassius' dagger through; 
SeG, what a rent the envious Casca made! 
Tiu'ough this, the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd; 
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 
Mark how the blood of Cesar follow'd it; 
As rushing out of doors to be resolv'd 
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd, or no; 
For Brutus, as you know, was Cesar's angel. 
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Cesar lov'd him! 
This was the most unkindest cut of all: 
For when the noble Cesar saw him stab. 
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms^, 
Quite van quish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; 
And, in his mantle muffling up his face, 
Even at the base of Pompey's statua,* 
Which all the while ran blood, great Cesar fell. 
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
Then I, and you, and all of us fell clown, 
Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us.f 
O, now you v.-eep; and, I perceive, you feel 
The dint:}: of pity: these are gracious drops. 
Kind souls, what weep you, when you but behold 
Our Cesar's vesture Avounded ? Look you here, 
Here is himself, marr'd as you see with traitors.' 

1 Cit. O piteous spectacle ! 

* Statua, for statue, is common among the old writers, 
t Was successful. t- Impression. 



JULIUS CESAR. 287 



^ Cit. We will be revenged: revenge; about, — 
seek, — burn, — fire, — kill, — slay! — let not a traitor 
live. 

»/l?it. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir 
you up 
To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 
They, that have done this deed, are honourable; 
What private griefs* they have, alas, I know not. 
That made ihem do it, they are wise and honourable, 
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; 
I am no orator, as Brutus is: 
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, 
That love my friend; and that they knoAV full well 
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, 
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; 
I tell you that, which you yourselves do know; 
Show you sweet Cesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb 

mouths. 
And bid them speak for me : But were I Brutus, 
And Brutus Antony, there Avere an Antony 
AVould ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
In every wound of Cesar, that should move 
The stones of Rome to rise and mutiny. 

ACT IV. 

CEREMONY INSINCERE. 

Ever note, Lucilius, 
When love begins to sicken and decay, 
It useth an enforced ceremony. 
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith: 
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand. 
Make gallant show and promise of their mettle: 
But when they should endure the bloody spur, 
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades. 
Sink in the trial. 

* Grievances. 



238 BEAUTiES OF FHAKSPEARE. 

THE TENT SCENE EETWilEN BRUTUS AND CASSIUS, 

Cas. That you ha%^e vTong'd me, doth appear in 
this: 
You have condemn 'd and noted Lucius Pella, 
For taking bribes here of the Sardians; 
Wherein, my letters, praying on his side, 
Because I knew the man, were slighted off. 

Bru. You wrong'd yourself, to write in such a case. 

Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet 
That every nice* ofience should bear his comment. 

Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm, 
To sell and mart your offices for gold, 
To undeservers. 

Cas. 1 an itching palm? 

You know that you are Brutus that speak this, 
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 

Bru. The name of Cassius honours this corruption. 
And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 

Cas. Chastisement* 

Bru. Remember March, the ides of March re- 
member ! 
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake.-* 
What villain touch'd his body, that did stab, 
And not for justice.'' What, shall one of us. 
That struck the foremost man of all this world, 
But for supporting robbers; shall we now, 
Contaminate our lingers with base bribes? 
And' sell the mighty space of our large honours, 
For so much trash, as may be grasped thus.'* — 
I had rather be a dog, and bayf the moon. 
Than such a Roman. 

Cas. Brutus, bay not me, 

I'll not endure it: you forget yourself, 
To hedge hfie in;J 1 am a soldier, I 
Older m practice, abler than yourself 
To make conditions. § 

Bru. Go to; you're not, Cassius. 

Cas. I am 

* Trifling. f Bait, bark at. t Limit my authority. 
§ Terms, fit to confer the .offices at my'disposal. 



JULIUS CESAR. 23» 

Bru. 1 say you are not. 

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself; 
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no further. 

Bru. Away, slight man ! 

Cas. Is't possible? 

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 

Must I give way and room to your rash choler? 
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares? 

Cas. O ye gods! ye gods! Must I endure all this 

Bru. All this? ay, more: Fret, till your proud 
heart break; 
Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, 
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? 
Must I observe you? Must I stand and crouch 
Under your testy humour? By the gods, 
You shall digest the venom of your spleen. 
Though it do split you: for, from this day forth, 
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter. 
When you are waspish. 

Cas. Is it come to this? 

Bru. You say, you are a better soldier: 
Let it appear so; make j^our vaunting true, 
And it shall please me w-ell : For mine own part, 
I shall be glad to learn of noble men. 

Cas. You wrong me every way, you wrong me, 
Brutus: 
I said, an elder soldier, not a better: 
Did I say, better? 

Bru. If you did, I care nbt. 

Cas. When Cesar liv'd, he durst not thus have 
raov'd me. 

Bru. Peace, peace;' you durst not thus have tempt 
ed him. 

Cas. I durst not? 

Bru. No. 

Cas. What? duTst not tempt him? 

Bru. For your life you durst not. 

Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love, 
I may do that I shall be sorry for. 

^rw. You have done that you should be sorry for 
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats: 



240 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

For I am arm'd so strong in honesty, 

That they pass by me, as the idle wind, 

Which l^respect not. I did send to you 

For certain sums of gold, -whijch you denied mej 

For I can raise no money by vile means: 

By heaven, I had rather coin my heart. 

And drop my blood for drachmas,* than to wring 

From the bard hands of peasants their vile trash. 

By an}^ indirection. I did send 

To you for gold to pay my legions, 

Which you denied mc: Was that done like Cassius/ 

Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so? 

When Marcus Brvitus grows so covetous. 

To lock such rascal counters from his friends, 

Be ready, gods, with all 3''our theinder bolts, 

Dash him to pieces! 

Cas 1 denied you not. 

Bru. You did. 

Cas. I did not: — he w-as but a fool. 

That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath riv'df 

my heart: 
A friend should bear his friend's infirmities, 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 

Bru. I do not, till you practice them on me. 

Cas. You love me not. 

Bru. I do not like 3'our faults. 

Cas. A friendly eye could never see such faults. 

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they do appear 
As huge as high Olympus. 

Cas. Come, Anton}', and young Octavius, come. 
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
For Cassius is aweary of the world: 
Hated by one he loves: brav'd by his brother: 
Check'd like a bondman; all his faults observ'd, 
Set in a note-book, learn'd, and conn'd by rote. 
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
My spirit from mine eyes! — There is my dagger. 
And here my naked breast; within, a heart 
Dearer than Plutus' mine, richer than gold: 
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth; 
I, that deny'd thee gold, will g;ive my heart: 
* Coin. t Split. 



^ujliuL; CESAR. 211 

Strike, as thou didst at Cesar; for, I know, 

When thou didst hate him worst, thou lov'dst him 

better 
Than ever thou lov'dst Cassius. 

Bru. Sheath your dagger: 

Be angry when you will, it shall have scope; 
Do what you will, dishonour shall be humour. 
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 
That carries anger as the flint bears fire; 
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark, 
And straight is cold again. 

Cas, Hath Cassius liv'd 

To be but mirth and laughter to his Brutus, 
When grief, and blood ill-temper'd vexeth him? 

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-tempered too. 

Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me your hand 

Bru. And my heart too. 

Cas. O Brntus!— 

Bru. What is the matter ? 

Cas. Have you not love enough to bear with me. 
When that rash humour, which my mother gave me, 
Makes me forgetful ? 

Bru. Yes, Cassius; and henceforth, 

When you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 
He'll think vour mother chides, and leave you so. 

Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. 

Cas. Of your philosophy you make no use, 
If you give place to acci;lental evils. 

Bru. No man be? is sorrow better:— Portia is dead. 

Cas. Ha! Portia: 

Bru. She is dead. 

Cas. How 'scap'd I killing, when I cross'd you 
so.'' — 
O insupportable and touching loss ! — 
Upon what sickness? 

Bru. Impatient of my absence; 
And grief, that young Octavius with Mark Antony 
Have made themselves so strong;— for with her death 
That tidings came.— With this she fell distract, ♦ 
And, her attendants absent, swallow'd fire. ^^ 
" 21 



242 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Cos. And died so? 

Bru. Even so. 

Cas. O ye immortal gods! 

Enter Lucius loith Wine and Tapers. 

Bru. Speak no more of her. — Give me a bowl of 
\vine: — 
In this I'll bury all unkindness, Cassius. [^Drinks, 

Cas. My heart is thirsty for that noble pledge: 
Fill, Lucius, till the wine o'erswell the cup; 
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. [Dritiks. 

OPPORTUNITY TO BE SEIZED ON ALL OCCASIONS OF 
LIFE. 

There is a tide in the aifairs of men, 
Which, taken at the tlood, leads on to fortune: 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 
On such a full sea are we now afloat; 
And we must take the current when it serves, 
Or lose our ventures. 

ACT V. 

THE PARTING OF BRUTUS AND CASSIUS. 

Bru. No, Cassius. no; think not, thou noble Ro- 
man, 
That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome; 
He bears too great a mind. But tliis same day 
Must esd that work, the ides of March begun; 
And whether we shall meet again, I know not. 
Therefore our everlasting farewell take: — 
For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius! 
If we do meet again, why we shall smile; 
Jf not, why then this parting was well made. 

Cas. For ever, and for ever, farewell Brutus! 
If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed: 
If not, His true, this parting was well made. 

Bru. Why, then, lead en. — O, that a man might 
know 
The end of this day's business, ere it come! 
But it sufficeth, that the day will end, 
And then the end is known. 



KING LEAR. 24^ 

MELANCHOLY THE PARENT OF ERROR. 

hateful error, melancholy's child; 
Why (lost tliou shoAV to the apt thoughts of men 
The things that are not! O error soon conceiv'd, 
Thou never com'st unto a happy birth, 
But kiir^t the mother that engender'd thee. 

AMTONy'S CHARACTER OF BRUTUS. 

This was the noblest Roman of them all: 
All the conspirators, save only he, 
Did that they did in envy of great Cesar: 
He only, in a general honest thought, 
And common good to all, made one of them. 
His life was gentle; and the elements 
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up, 
And say to all the world. This toas a man! 

KING LEAR. 



ACT I. 

A father's AiVGER. 

LET it be so, — Thy truth then be thy dower: 
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun; 
The mysteries of Hecate, and the night: 
By all the operations of the orbs, 
From whence we do exist, and cease to be; 
Here I disclaim all my paternal care, 
Propinquity* and property of blood, 
And as a stranger to my heart and me 
Hold thee, from this,t for ever. The barbarous Scy- 
thian, 
Or he that makes his generation^ messes 
To gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and reliev'd, 
As thou my sometime daughter. 

BASTARDY. 

Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law 
My services are bound: Wherefore should 1 
Stand in the plague§ c-f custom; and permit 

* Kindred, t From this time, t His cliildren* 

§ Tlic injustice 



244 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The curiosity* of nations to deprive me, 

For that I am some twelve or fourteen moon-shines 

Lag of a brother? Why bastard? wherefore base? 

When my dimensions are as well compact, 

My mind as generous, and my shape as true. 

As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us 

With base? with baseness? bastardy? base, base? 

Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 

More composition and fierce quality. 

Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed, 

Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops. 

Got 'tween asleep and wake? 

ASTROLOGY RIDICULED. 

This is the excellent foppery of the world ! that 
when we are sick in fortune (often the surfeit of our 
own behaviour,) we make guilty of our disasters, the 
sun, the moon, and the stars: as if we were villains 
by necessity: fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves, 
thieves, and treachers,t by spherical predominance: 
drunkards, liars, and adulterers, by an enforced obe- 
dience of planetary influence; and all that we are 
evil in, by a divine thrusting on: An admirable eva- 
sion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposi- 
tion to the change of star! My father compounded 
with my mother under the dragon's tail; and my na- 
tivity was under ursa major ;X so that it follows, I am 
rough and lecherous. — Tut, I should have been that 
I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament 
twinkled at my bastardizing. 

FILIAL INGRATITUDE. 

Ingratitude \ thou marble-hearted fiend, 
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, 
Than the sea-monster ! 

A father's curse on his child. 

Hear, nature, hear; 
Dear goddess, hear! Suspend thy purpose, if 
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful! 
Into her womb convey sterility ! 
Dry up in her the organs of increase; 

• The nicety of civil institution. t Traitors. 

X Great Bear, the constellation so named. 



KING LEAR. 245 

And from her derogate* body never spring 
A babe to honour her ! If she must teem, 
Create her child of spleen; that it may live, 
And be athwart disnatur'd torment to her! 
Let it stamp wrinkles on her brow of youth: 
With cadentf tears fret channels in her cheeks, 
Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits, 
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
To have a thankless child ! 



ACT 11. 

FLATTERING SYCOPHANTS. 

That such a slave as this should wear a sword, 
Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues as 

these, 
Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain 
Which are too intrinsic]; t'unloose; smooth every 

passion 
That in the natures of their lords rebels; 
Bring oil to lire, snow to their colder moods; 
Renege, § affirm, and turn their halcyon || beaks 
With ever}' gale and vary of their masters, 
As knowing nought, like dogs, but following. 

PLAIN BLUNT MEN. 

This is some fellow, 
Who having been praised for bluntness, doth affect 
A saucy roughness, and constrains the garb, 
Quite from hh nature: He cannot flatter, he! — 
An honest mind and plai", — he must speak truth: 
An' they will take it so; if not, he's plain. 
These kind of knaves I know, which in this plainneat 
Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends, 
I'hen twenty siilylT ducking observants, 
That stretch their duties nicely. 

* Degraded. t Falling. t Perplexed. 

§ Disowned. 

II Tlie bird called llie king-fibhcr, which, whe« dried 
and hung pp by a thread, is supposed to turn his bill tc. 
the point fro^ii whence the v/ind blows. 

IT Simple or rustic 21* 



246 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

BEDLAM BEGGARS. 

While I may 'scape, 
1 will preserve myself: and am bethought 
To take the basest and most poorest shape, 
That every penury, in contempt of man, 
Brought near to beast: my face I'll grime with filth; 
Blanket my loins; elf* all my hair in knots; 
And with presented nakedness outface 
The winds, and persecutions of the sky. 
The country gives me proof and precedent 
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices. 
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
Pins, wooden pricks, f nails, sprigs of rosemary; 
And with this horrible object, from low farms. 
Poor pelting villages, sheep-cotes, and mills. 
Sometime with lunatic bans,:}: sometime with prayers, 
Enforce their charity. 

THE FAULTS OF INFIRMITY PARDONABLE. 

Fiery? the fiery duke?~Tell the hot duke, that— 
No, but not yet : — may be, he is not well : 
Infirmity doth still neglect all office, 
Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves, 
When nature, being oppress'd, commands the mind 
To suffer with the body: I'll forbear: 
And am fallen out with my more headier will, 
To take the indisposed and sickly fit 
For the sound man. 

UNKIND NESS. 

Thy sister's naught: 0, Regan, she hath tied 
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness, like a vulture here. 

[Points to his heart. 

OFFENCES MISTAKEN. 

All's not ofience, that indiscretion finds, 
And dotage terms so. 

RISING PASSION. 

I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me mad; 
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: 
We'll no more meet, no more see one another: — 

♦ Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of 
elves and fairies in the night- 

t Skewer* i Curses. 



KING LEAR. 247 

But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daughter; 

Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh, 

Which I must needs call mine; thou art a boil, 

A plague sore, an embossed* carbuncle. 

In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide thee; 

Lei shame come when it will, I do not call it; 

I do not bid thunder-bearer shoot. 

Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove. 

THE nel;essaries of life few. 
O, reason not the need: our basest beggars 
Are in the poorest thing superfluous: 
Allow not nature more than nature needs, 
Man's life is cheap as beast's. 

LEAR ON THE INGRATITUDE OF HIS DAUGHTERS. 

You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, 
As full of grief as age; wretched in both! 
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts 
Against their father, fool me not so much 
To bear it tamely; touch me with noble anger! 

let not Avoraen's weapons, water-drops. 

Stain my man's cheeks! — no, you unnatural hags, 

1 will hav^e such revenues on you both. 

That all the world shall — I will do such things, — 

What they are, yet I know not; but they shall be 

The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep; 

No, I'll not weep: — 

I have full cause of weeping; but this heart 

Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws. 

Or ere I'll weep: O, fool, I shall go mad! 

W^ILFUL MEN. 

O, sir, to wdlful men, 
The injuries, that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters. 

ACT III. 

LEAR'S DISTRESS IN THE STORM. 

Kent. Where's the king? 
Gent. Contending with the fretful element: 
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea, 

♦ Swelling. 



248 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE 

Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main, 

Th^t things might change, or cease: tears his white 

hair; 
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 
Catch in their fury, and make nothi'ng of: 
'"Strives in this little world of man to out-scorn 
The to-and-fro-conflicting wind and rain. 
This night, wherein the cab-drawn* bear would 

couch, 
The lion and the belly pinched wolf 
Keep their fur dry, unbonnetted he runs, 
And bids what wjil take all. 

leak's exclamations in the tempest. 
Blow, wind and crack your cheeks! rage! blow! 
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout 
Till you have dreiich'd our steeples', drown'd the 

cocks ! 
You sulphurous and thought-executing f fires 
Va=unt couriers:!: to oak-cleaving thunderbolts. 
Singe my white head I And then, ail-shaking thun 

der, 
Strike flat the thicl^ rotundity o' the world ! 
Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once. 
That make ingrateful man ! 

■k * * ■* *■ 

Rumble thy bellyfuU ! Spit, fire ! spout, rain ! 
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters: 
I tax not you, you elements, with unldndness, 
1 never gave you kingdom, cali'd you children, 
Y^ou owe me no subscription ;§ why then let fall 
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your slave, 
A poor, infirm, wea!^, and despis'd old man: — 
But yet 1 call you servile ministers, 
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd 
Your high engender'd batiks, 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this. O ! O ! 'tis foul ! 



* Whose dugs arc drawn dry by its young. 

+ Quick as thought. J Avaunt couriers. French. 

§ Obedience 



KING LEAR. M9 

Kent. Alas, sir, are you here? things that love 
night, 
Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies 
Gallovv* the very wanderers of the dark, 
And make them keep their caves: Since I was man, 
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder, 
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 
Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry 
The affliction, nor the fear. 

Lear. Let the great gods, 

That keep this dreadful potherf o'er our heads. 
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch. 
That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
Unwhipp'd of Justice: Hide thee, thou bloody hand; 
Thou perjur'd, and thou simularj man of virtue 
That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake, 
That under covert and convenient seeming§ 
Has practis'd on man's life! — Close pent-up guilts, 
Rive your concealing continents, and cry 
These dreadful summoners grace. |j — I am a man, 
More sinn'd against, than sinning. 

Kent. Alack, bareheaded! 

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel; 
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest. 
***** 

Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much,that this contentious 

storm 
Invades us to the skin: so 'tis to thee; 
But where the greater malady is fix'd, 
The lesser is scarce felt. Thou'dst shun a bear; 
But if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, 
Thou'dst meet the bear i' the mouth. When the 

mind's free, 
The body's delicate: the tempest in my mind 
Doth from my senses take all feeling else, 
Save what beats there. — Filial ingratitude! 
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand. 
For lifting food to't? — But I will punish home: — 



punisn no 
;h aufght 



No, I will weep no more. — In sue 

* Scare or frighten. f Blustering noise. 

t Counterfeit. § Appearance. II Favour. 



iSO BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAilE. 

To shut me out ! — Pour on ; I will endure ; — 
In such a night as this! O Regan, Goneril! — 
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave all, — > 
O, that way madness lies; let me shun that; 
No more of that, — 

Kent. Good, my lord, enter here, 

Lear. Pr'ythee, go in thyself; seek thine own eas*?; 
This tempest will not give me leave to ponder 
On things would hurt me more. But I'll go in: 
In, boy; go first. — [To the Fool.] You houseless 

poverty,— 
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep, — 

[Fool goes ill. 
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 
How shall your houseless heads, and unfed sides, 
Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you 
From seasons such as these? O, I have ta'en 
Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; 
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel; 
That thou may'st shake the superflux to them, 
And show the heavens more just. 

# * # * # 

Enter Edgar, disguised as a Madman. 

Edg. Away! the foul fiend follows me! — 
Through the sharp hawthorn bloAvs the cold wind. — 
Humph! go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 

Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daughter's.-* 
And art thou come to this.^ 

* * * # # 

Didst thou give them all.'' 

***** 

Now all the plagues that in the pendulous air 
Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy daughters! 

Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. 

Lear. Death, traitor! nothing could have subdu'd 
natur^ 
To such a lowness, but his unkind daughters. — 
Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers 
Should have thus little mercv on their flesh ' 



KING LEAR. 261 

Judicious punishment ! 'twas this flesh begot 
Those pelican daughters. 

ON MAI*. 

Is man no more than this.'' Consider him well: 
Thou ovvest the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the 
sheej) no wool, the cat no perfume : — Ha ! here's three 
of us are sophisticated? — Thou art the thing itself: 
.unaccommodated man is no more but such a poor, 
bare, forked animal as thou art — Off, off, you tend- 
ings. 

ACT IV. 

* THE JUSTICE OF PROVIDENCE. 

That I am wretched. 
Makes thee the happier: — Heavens, deal so still! 
Let the superfluous,' and lust-dieted man, 
That slaves 3'our ordinance,* that will not see 
Because he doth not feel, feel your power quickly; 
So distribution should undo excess, 
And e^ch man have enough. 

PATIENCE AND SORROW. 

Patience and sorrow strove 
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen 
Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears 
Were like a better day : Those happy smiles 
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
What guests were in her eyes; Avhich parted thencf* 
As poarls from diamonds dropp'd. — In brief, sorro 
Would be a rarity most belov'd, if all 
Could so become it. 

leak's distraction described. 

Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even now 
j\s mad as the vex'd sea: singing aloud; 
Crown'd with rank fumiterf and furrow weeds. 
With harlocks,t hemlock, nettles,^ cuckoo-flowers, 
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 
In our sustaining corn, 

* i. e. To make it subject to lis, instead of acting ia 
obedience to it. t Fiunitory. ^ Charlock.s<. 



282 BEAUrii.3 OF bilAKSPEARE. 

DESCRIPTION OF DOVER CLIFF. 

Come on, sir; here's the place; — stand still. — How 
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low ! [fearful 
The crows, and choughs,* that wing the midway air, 
Show scarce so gross as beetles: Half way down 
Hangs one that gathers samphire;t dreadful trade! 
Methinks he seems no bigger than his head: 
The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
Appear like mice; and yon' t?ll anchoring bark, 
Diminish'd to her cock;j: her cock, a buoy 
Almost too small for sight: The murmuring surge, 
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes, 
Cannot be heard so high: — I'll look no morej 
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
Topple li down headlong. 

gloster's farewell to the world. 
O you mighty gods! 
This world I do renounce; and, in your sights, 
Shake patiently my great afHiction off: 
If 1 could bear it longer, and not fall 
To quarrel with your great opposeless wills, 
My snuir, and loathed part of nature, should 
Burn itself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! 

LEAR ON HIS FLATTERERS. 

They flatter'd me like a dog; and told me, I had 
white hairs in my beard, ere the black ones were 
there. To say ay, and no, to every thing I said! — 
Ay and no too was no good divinity. When the rain 
came to wet me once, and the wind to make me chat- 
ter; when the thunder would not peace at my bid- 
ding; there I found them, there I smelt them out. 
Go to, they are not men o' their words: they told 
me I was every thing; 'tis a lie; I am not ague-proof. 

ON THE ABUSE OF POWER. 

Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand : 
Why dost thou lash that whore? Strip thine own 

back; 
Thou hotly lust'st to use her in that kind 

• Daws. t A vegetable gathered for pickling. 

% Her cock-boat. il Tumble. 



KING LEAR. 263 

For which th5u whipp'st her. The usurer hangs the 

cozener. 
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; 
Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin with 

gold, 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks; 
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. 
None does otfend, none, I say, none; I'll able 'em: 
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes; 
And, like a scurvy politician, seem 
To see the things thou dost not. 

CORDELIA ON THE INGRATITUDE OF HER SISTERS. 

O my dear father! RestoratioUj hang 
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss 
Repair those violent harms, that my two sisters 
Have in thy reverence made ! 

* * # # 

Had you not b'een their father, these white flakes 
Had chalicftg'd pity of them. Wai this a face 
Ta be expos'd against the warring \7inds.'' 
To stand against the deej) dread-bolted thunder.'* 
In the most terrible and nimble stroke 
Of quick, cross lightning? 

* * * * 

And wast thou fain, poor father. 
To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn. 
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack! 
'Tis wonder, that thy life and wits at once 
Had not concluded all, 

SCENE BETWEEN LEAR. AND CORDELIA. 

Cor. How does my royal lord? How fares your 

majesty? 
Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out o' the 
grave : 
Thou art a soul in bliss; but I am bound 
Upon a wheel of lire, that mine own tears 
Do scald like molten lead. 

Cor. Sir, do you know me.' 

Lear. You are a s})irit, i know : When did vou die* 
Cor. StiU, still, far wide! 
22 



294 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Phya. He's scarce awake; let him alone awhile 

Lear. Where have I been?-— Where am I?— Fair 
day-light? — 
I am mightily abus'd. — I should even die with pity, 
To see another thus. — I know not what to say. — 
I will not swear, these are my hands: let's see. 
I feel this pin prick. 'Would I were assur'd 
Of my condition. 

Cor. O, look upon me, sir. 

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me: — 
No, sir, you must not kneel. 

Lear. Pray, do not mock me • 

I am a very foolish fond old man, 
Fourscore and upward; and, to deal plainly, 
I fear, I am not in mj^ perfect mind. 
Methinks, I should know you, and know this man: 
Yet I am doubtful: for I an. mainly ignorant 
What place this is; and all the skill I have 
Remembers not these garments; nor J know not 
Where 1 did lodge last night: Do not 'laijgh at me; 
For, as I am a man, I think this lady 
To be my child Cordelia. 

Cor. And so I am, 1 am. 

Lear. Be your tears wet ? Yes, 'faith. I pray, weep 
not: 
If you have poison for me, I will drink it. , 

I know, you do not love me; for your sisters 
Have, as I do remember, done me wrong: 
You have some cause, they have not. 

Cor. No cause, no cause. 

Lear, Am I in France? 

Ke?it. In your own kingdom, sir. 

Lear. Do not abuse me. 

Phijs. Be comforted, good madam: the great rage, 
You see, is cur'd in him: and yet it is danger 
To make him even* o'er the time he has lost. 
Desire him to go in; trouble him no more, 
Till further settling. 

Cor. Will't please your highness walk? 

♦ To reconcile it to its apprehension. 



KING LEAR. S65 

Lear. You must bear with me : 

Pray now, forget, and forgive: I am old, and foolish. 

ACT V. 

r.EAR TO CORDELIA WHE.V TAKEN ^PRISONERS 

No, no, no, no! Come, lel-^3 away to prison: 
We two alone will sing like hirds i' the cage: 
When thou dost ask mcble>»sing, I'll kneel down, 
And ask of thee forgiveness-: So we'll live, 
And pray, and sing, and teli old tales, and laugh 
At gilded butterflies, and hear poor rogues 
Talk of court news; and we'll talk with them too, — 
Who loses, and who wins; who's in, who's out; — 
And take upon us the mystery of things. 
As if we were God's spies: And we'll wear out, 
In a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones, 
That ebb and flow by the moon. 

Edm. Take them away. 

Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 
The gods themselves throw incense. 

THE JUSTICE OF THE GODS. 

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Made instruments to scourge us. 

EDGAR'S ACCOUNT OF HIS DISCOVERING HIMSELF 
TO HIS FATHER. 

List* a brief tale; — 
And, when 'tis told, 0,that my heart would burst!— 
The bloody proclamation to escape, 
Thatfollow'd me so near, (0 onr lives' sweetness! 
That with the pain of death we'd hourly die, 
Rather than die at once!) taught me to shift 
Into a madman's rao;s; to assume a semblance 
That very dog's disdain'd: and in this habit 
Met I my father with his bleeding rings, 
Tlieir precious stones new lost; became his guide, 
Led him, begg'd for him, sav'd him from despair; 
Never (O fault!) reveal'd myself unto him, 
Until some half hour past, when I was arm'd, 
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 
* Hear. 



256 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

I ask'd his blessing, and from first to last 
Told him mj pilgrimage: But his flaw'd heart, 
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support!) 
'Twixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief 
Burst smilingl}^ 

Edm. This speech of jour's hath mov'd me, 

And shall, perchance, do good; but speak you on: 
You look as 3'ou had something more to say. 

Alb. If there be more, more woful, hold it in; 
For I am almost ready to dissolve, 
Hearing of this. 

Edg. This w'ould have seem'd a period 

To such as love not sorrow; but another, 
To amplify too much, v»ould make much more. 
And top extremity. 

Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man. 
Who having seen me in my worst estate, 
Shunn'd m}^ abhorr'd society; but then, finding 
AVho 'twas that so endur'd, with his strong arms, 
He fasten'd on my neck, and bellow'd out 
As he'd burst heaven; threw him on my father; 
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him. 
That ever ear receiv'd: 'ivhich in recounting 
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 
Began to crack. Twice then the trumpet sounded 
And there I left him tranc'd. 

LEAR ON THE DEATH OF CORDELIA. 

Hgwl, howl, howl, howl;— O, you are men of 
stones; 
Had I your tcMgues and eyes, I'd use them so 
That heaven's vault should crack: — O, she is gone 

for ever! — 
I know when one is dead, and when one lives; 
She's dead as earth: — Lend me a looking-glass: 
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone. 
Why, then she lives. 

« « * * 

This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so. 
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have feit. 

Kent. my good master! [Kneeling. 



MACBETH. 2S7 

Lear. Pr'ythee, away. 

# * * « 

A plague upon you, murderers, traitors all! 

I might have sav'd her; now she's gone for_ever!— 

Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha! 

What is't thou say'st? — Her voice was ever soft, 

Gentle, and low. 

LEAR DYING. 

And my poor fool* is hang'd! No, no, no, life: 
Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, 
And thou no breath at all? O, thou wilt co!Ptie no 

more. 
Never, never, never, never, never! 



MACBETH. 



ACT I. 



WITCHES DESCRIBED. 

WHAT are these, 
So wither'd, and so wild in their attire; 
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, 
And yet are o'nt? Live you? or are you aught 
That man may question? you seem to understand 

me, 
By each at once her choppy finger laying 
Upon her skinny lips: — You should be women, 
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 
That you are so. 

MACBETIl'S TEMPER. 

Yet do I fear thy nature; 
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness, 
To catch the nearest wtiy: Thou would'st be great 
Art not without ambition; but without 
The illness should attend it. What thju would'st 

highly. 
That would'st thou holily; would'st not play false, 
And yet would'st wrongly win. 

* Poor Fool, in the time of Shakespeare, was aa op- 
pression of endearment. 

22* 



258 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

LADV MACBETH'S SOLILOQ.UY ON THE N£WS OF 
DUNCAN'S APPllOACII. 

The raven himself is hoarse, 
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
Under my battlements. Come, come, you spirits 
That tend on mortal* thoughts, unsex me here; 
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top-full 
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, 
Stop up the access and passage to remorse ;t 
Tliat no compunctious visitings of nature 
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
The effect and it ! Come to my woman's breasts. 
And take my milk for gall, you murd'ring ministers, 
Wherever in your sightless substances 
You wait on Nature's mischief ! Come, thick night: 
And pallj thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! 
That my keen knifc§ see not the wound it makes; 
Nor heaven peeu through the blanket of the dark. 
To cry, Hold, Hold! 

MACBETH'S IIIUESOLUTION. 

If it were done, when 'tis done, then 'twere well 
It were done quicklj'^: If the assassination 
Could trammel upon the consequence, and catch, 
With his surcease, success; that but this blow 
Might be the be-all and the end-all here, 
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, — 
We'd jump the life to come, — Sut, in these cases, 
We still have judgment here; that we but teach 
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
To plague the inventor: This even-handed justice 
Commends the ingredients of our polson'd chalice 
To our own lips. lie's here in double trust: 
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, 
Strong both against the deed] then, us bis host, 
Who should against his murderer shut the door, 
Not bear the. knife nvv^sclf. Besides, this Duncan 
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
So clear in his great oHice, that his virtues 
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tongued, against 

* Murderous. f Pity. | Wrap, as in a mantle. 

§ Knife anciently risoaul a S'vord or da^jvcr 



MACBETH. 25- 

The deep damnation of his taking-off: 

And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 

Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, hors'd 

Upon the sightless couriers* of the air, 

.Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 

'I'hat tears shall drov/n the wind. — I have no spur 

To prick the sides of my intent, but only 

Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself, 

And falls on the other. 

TRUE FORTITUDE. 

I dare do all that may become a man; 
Who dares do more is none. 



ACT II. 

THE MURDERING SCENE. 

Is this a dagger which I see before me, 
The handle toward my hand.? Come, let me clutch 

thee: — 
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 
Art thou not. fatal vision, sensible 
To feeling, as to sight .^ or ait thou but 
A dagger of the mind; a false creation, 
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain.'' 
I see thee yet, in form as palpable, 
As this which nov/ I draw. 
Thou marshal'st me the way that I Avas going; 
And such an instrument I was to use. 
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the othor senses. 
Or else worth all the rest: ! see thee still; 
And on thy blade, and dudgeon, f gouts+ of blood, 
Which v/as not so before. — There's no such thing: 
It is the bloody husiners, which inform.s 
Thus to mine eyes. — Now o'er the one half world 
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebratev 
Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd murder, 
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, 

* Winds; s^glitlsrfs is invisible. 

+ Haft. I Drops. 



260 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Who's howl'd his watch, thus with his stealthy pace. 
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design 
Moves like a ghost. — Thou sure and firm set earth, 
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear 
Thy very stones prate of my where-about. 
And take the present horror from the time, 
Which now suits with it.— Whiles I threat, he lives; 
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives. 

[A bell rings. 
I go, and it is done; the belHnvites me. 
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell. 
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. [Exit. 
Enter Lady Macbeth. 

Lady M. That which hath made them drunk, hath 
made me bold : 
What hath quench'd them, hath given me fire: — 

Hark! — Peace! 
It was the owl that shriekM, the fatal bellman. 
Which gives the stern'st good night. He is about it: 
The doors are open; and the surfeited grooms 
Do mock their charge with snores: I have drugg'd 

their possets. 
That death and nature do contend about them. 
Whether they live or die. 

Macb. [Within] Who's there?— what, ho! 

Lady M. Alack! I am afraid they have awak'd. 
And 'tis not done: — The attempt, and not the deed, 
Confounds us: — Hark! — I laid their daggers ready 
He could not miss them. — Had he not resembled 
My father as he slept, I had done't. — My husband! 
Enter Macbeth. 

Macb. I have done the deed: — Didst thou not hear 
a noise : 

Lady M. I heard the ovv Is scream, and the crickets 
cry. 
Did not you speak.? 

Macb. When.? 

Lady M. Now. 

Macb. As I descended? 

Lady M. Ay. 



MACBETH. 20i 

Macb. B.2iTkl— 
Who lies i' the second chamber? 

Lady M. Donalbain. 

Macb. This is a sorry sight. 

[Looking at his hands. 

Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry sight. 

Macb. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and on 
cried, murder! 
'1 hat they did Avake each other; I stood and heard 

them; 
But they did say their prayers, and address'd them 
Again to sleep. 

Lady M, There are two lodg'd together. 

Macb. One cried, God bless us! and, Jlmen, the 
other; 
As* they had seen me, with these hangman's hands, 
Listening their fear, I could not say, amen, 
When they did say, God bless us. 

Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. 

Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, amen? 
I had most need of blessing, and amen 
Stuck in my throat. 

Lady M. These deeds must not be thought 

After these ways; so, it will make us mad. 

Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no 



more l 



Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep; 
Sleep, that knits up the ravelPd sleave\ of care. 
The death of each day''s life, sore labour''s bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course. 
Chief now isher in life's feast; — 
Lady M. What do you mean } 

Macb. Still it cried, Sleep no more ! to all the house • 
Glamis hath 7nurdcr''d sleep; and therefore Cawdor 
Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall sleep no more! 
Lady M. Who was it that thus cried .'' Why, wor- 
thy Thane, 
You do unbend your noble strength, to think 
So brainsicklj'- of things: — Go, get sonoe water, 
And wash tliis fdthy witness from your hand. — 

♦ As if, t Sleave, is unv^Tought silk. 



262 BEAIJTIES OP SHAKSPEARE. 

Why did you bring these daggers from the place? 
They must lie there: Go, carry themj and smear 
The sleepy grooms with blood. 

Mach. I'll go no more : 

I am afraid to think what I have done: 
Look on't again, I dare not. 

Lady M. Infirm of purpose! 

Give me the daggers: The sleeping, and the dead, 
Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood, 
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, 
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal, 
For it must seem their guilt. 

[Exit. Knocking within. 

Macb. Whence is that knocking.^ 

How is't with me, when every noise appals me.'' 
What hands. are here.'* Ha! they pluck out mine 



eyes 



Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood 
Clean from my hand.-* No: this my hand will rather 
The nr.ultitudinous seas incarnardine,* 
Making the oreen one red. 

Re-enter Lady Macbeth. 
Lady M. My hands are of your colour; but I 

shame 
To wear a heart so white. [Knock.] I hear a knocking 
At the south entry: — retire we to our chamber: 
A little water clears us of this deed: 
How easy is it then ! Your constancy 
Hath left you unattended. — [Knocking.] Hark! 

more knocking: 
Get on your night-gown, lest occasion call us, 
And show us to be watchers: — Be not lost 
So poorly in your thoughts. 

Macb. To know my deed, — 'twere best not know 

myself. [Knock, 

Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, 'would thou 

couldst ! [Exeunt. 

* To incarnardine is to stain of a flesh colour. 



MACBETH 263 

ACT III. 

MACiBETH'S GUILTY CONSCIENCE AND FEARS OF 
BANQ,UO. 

Lady M. How now, my lord; why do you keep 
alone, 

Of sorriest* fancies your companions making? 
Using those thoughts which should indeed have died 
With them they think on? Things without remedy, 
Should he without regard: what's done, is done. 

Mach. We have scotch'd the snake, not kiliM it; 
She'll close and be herself; Avhilst our poor malice 
Remains in danger of her former tooth. 
But let 

The frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, 
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep 
In the affliction of these terrible dreams, 
That shake us nightly: Better be with the dead, 
Whom we, to gain our place, have sent to peace, 
Than on the torture of the mind to lie. 
In restless ecstasy. t Duncan is in his grave; 
After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well; 
Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, 
Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing 
Can touch him further. 

* * ♦ ♦ 

O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! 
Thou know'sr that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. 
Lad}j M. But in them nature's copy's not eterne.J 
Mach. There's comfort yet; they are assailable; 
Then be thou jocund: Ere the bat hath flown 
His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's summons, 
The shard-borne beetle, § with his drowsy hivn?, 
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done 
A deed of dreadful note. 

Lady M. What's to be done? 

* Most melancholy. t Agony. 

X i. e. The copy, ti\o lease, by which they hold their 
lives from nature, has its time of termination. 

§ The beetle borne in the air by its shards or scaly wings. 



£64 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Macb. Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest 

chuck,* 
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seelingf night, 
Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day; 
And, with thy bloody and invisible hand, 
Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond 
Which keeps me pale! — Light thickens; and thf 

crow 
Makes wing to the rooky wood: 
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse; 
Whiles night's black agents to their prey do rouse. 

THE BANQUET SCENE. 

Lady M. My royal lord, 

You do not give the cheer; the feast is sold, 
That is not often vouch'd, while 'tis a making, 
'Tis given with welcome: To feed, were best at 

home 
From thence, the sauce to meat is ceremony; 
Meeting were bare without it. 

Macb. ■ Sweet remembrancer!— 

Now, good digestion wait on appetite, 
And health on both ! ^ 

Ltn. May it please your highness sit? 

[The Ghost of Banq,uo rises, and sils 
in Macbeth's place. 
Macb. Here had we now our country's honour 
roof'd, 
Were the grac'd person of our Banquo present; 
Whom I may rather challenge for un kindness. 
Than pity for mischance \ 

Rosse. His absence, sir, 

I iys blame upon his promise. Please it your high- 
ness 
To grace us witK your roval company? 
Macb. The table's full." 

Le7i. Here's a place reserv'd, sir. 

Macb. Where? 
Lcn. Here, my lord. Wliat is't that moves your 

highness? 
Macb. Which of you have done. this? 
* A term of endearment. t Blinding 



MACBETH. 865 

Lords. What, my good lord? 

Much. Thou can'st not say, I did it: never shake 
Thy gory locks at me, 

ilossc. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not well. 

Lady M. Sit, worthy friends, my lord is often 
thus. 
And hath been from his youth: 'pray you keep seat; 
The fit is momentary; upon a thought 
He will again be well: If much you note him, 
You shall offend him, and extend his passion;* 
Feed, and regard him not. — Are you a man.'' 

Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that 
Which might appal the devil. 

Lady M. O proper stuff: 

This the very painting of your fear: 
This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said, 
Led you to Duncan. 0, these flaws,t and starts, 
(Impostors to true fear) would well become 
A woman's story, at a winter's fire, 
Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself! 
Why do you make such faces? When all's done, 
You look but on a stool. 

Macb. Pr'ythee, see there ! behold ! look ! lo ! how 
say you ? — 
Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too. 
If charnel-houses, and our graves, must send 
Those that we bury, back, our irjonuments 
Shall be the maws of kites. [Ghost disappears 

Lady M. What! quite unmann'd in folly? 

Macb. If I stand here, I saw him. 

J^ady M. Fie, for shame ! 

Macb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden 
time. 
Ere human statute purg'd the gentle weal; 
Ay, and since too, murders have been perform'd 
Too terriblo for the ear: the times ha^e been, 
That whei* tno brains were out, the man would die, 
And there a i end: but now they rise again. 
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, 

♦ Prolong his suffering. t Sudden gusts 



286 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And push us from our stools: This is more strange 
Than such a murder is. 

Lady M. My worthy lord. 

Your noble friends do lack you. 

Macb. I do forget : — 

Do not muse* at me, my most worthy friends; 
I have a strange intirmity, which is nothing 
To those that know me. Come, love and health to 

all; 
Then I'll sit down: — Give me some wine, fill full; — 
I drink to the general joy of the whole table, 

Ghost rises. 
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; 
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst. 
And all to all.f 

Lords. Our duties, and the pledge. 

Macb. Avaunl! and quit my sight! Let the earth' 
hide thee ! 
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is r-old; 
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
Which thou dost glare with ! 

Lady M. Think of this, good peers, 

But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other; 
Only it spoils the pleasure of the time. 

jilacb. What man dare, I dare: 
yVpproach thou like the rugged Russian bear^ 
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger, 
Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves 
Shall never tremble: Or, be alive agtun, 
And dare me to the desert with thy sword; 
If trembling I inhibit]: th^e. protest me 
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow^! 

[Ghost disappears. 
Unreal mockery, hence! — ^^Vhy, so; — being gone, 
1 am a man again. — Pray you, sit still. 

Lady JyL You have displac'd the mirth, broke 
the good meeting. 
With most admir'd disorder. 

Macb, Can such things be, 

♦ Wonder. i u e. All good wishes to all. 

i Forbid. 



MACBETH. 267 

And overcome* us like a summer's cloud, 

Without our special wonder? You make me strange 

Even to the disposition that I owe,t 

AVhen now I think you can behold such sights, 

And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks. 

When mine are blanch'd with fear. 

Rosse. ' What sights, my lord.? 

Lady M. I pray you, speak not; he grows wors» 
and worse; 
Question enrages him: at once, good night: 
Stand not upon the order of your going, 
But go at once. 

Led. Good night and better health 

Attend his majesty ! 

Lady M. A kind good night to all! 

[Exeunt Lords and Attendants. 

Mach. It will have blood; they say, blood will have 
blood: 
Stones have been known to move, and trees to speak* 
Augurs, and understood relations, have 
By magot-pies:j: and choughs, and rooks, brought 

forth 
The secret'st man of blood. 

ACT IV. 

THE POWER OF WITCHES. 

I conjure you, by that which you profess, 
(Hcwe'er you come to know it) answer me: 
Though you untie the winds, and let them fight 
Against the churches; thouo;h the yesty§ waves 
Confound and swallow navigation up; 
Though bladed corn be lodg'd|| and trees blowa 

down; 
Though castles topplelT on their warders* heads; 
Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope 
Their heads to their foundations; though the treasure 
Of nature's germins** tumble all together, 

* Pass over. t Possess. X Magpies. § Frothy. 
!l Laid flat by wind or rain. IT Tumble. 

** Seeds which have begun to sprout. 



268 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Even till destruction sicken^ answer me 
To what I ask you. 

Malcolm's character op himself. 

Mai. But I have none: The king-becoming graces 
As justice, verity, temperance, stableness, 
Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, 
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude,' 
I have no relish of them; but abound 
In the division of each several crime. 
Acting it many ways. Way, had I power, I should 
Pour the sv/eet milk of concord into hell, 
Uproar the universal peace, confound 
All unity on earth. 

Macb. O Scotland ! Scotland ! 

Mai. If such a one be fit to govern, speak: 
I am as I have spoken. 

Macb. Fit to govern ! 

No, not to live. — O nation .vii^erable. 
With an untitled tyrant, bloodj^-sceptred, 
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again.'' 
Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
By his own interdiction stands accurs'd, 
And does blaspheme his breed? — Thj' royal father 
Was a most sainted king; the queen, that bore thee 
Oftener upon her knees than on her feet. 
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well! 
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself. 
Have banish'd me from Scotland. — 0, my breast, 
Thy hope ends here ! 

Mai. Macduff, this noble passion, 

'Child of integrity, hath from my soul 
Wip'd the black scruples, reconcil'd my thoughts 
To thy good truth and honour. Dev'lish Macbeth 
By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
Into his power; and modest wisdom plucks me 
From over-credulous haste :* But God above 
Deal between thee and me! for even now 
I put myself to thy direction, and 
Unspeak mine own detraction: here abjure 
The taints and blames I laid upon myself, 

* Over-hasty credulity 



MACBETH. 26& 

For strangers to my nature. I am yet 
Unknown to woman; never was foresv/orn; 
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own: 
At no time broke my faith; would not betray 
The devil to his fellow; and delight 
' No less in truth, tlran life: my first false speaking 
Was this upon myself: What I am truly, 
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command. 

AN OPPRESSED COUNTRY. 

Alas, poor country; 
Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot 
Be call'd our mother, but our grave: where nothing. 
But who knows nothing, is once seen to smile; 
AVhere sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rent the 

air, 
Are made, not mark'd: were violent sorrov/ seems 
A modern ecstasy:* the dead man's knell 
Is there scarce ask'd, for vvho; and good mei^'s lives 
Expire before the flowers in their caps. 
Dying, or ere they sicken. 
Macduff's behaviour on the murder of hi9 

WIFE AND children. 

Rosse. 'Would I could answer 

This comfort with the like! But I have words 
That would be howi'd out in the desert air, 
Where hearing shouhl not latchf them. 

Macd. What concern they? 

The general cause.' or is it a fee-grief,]: 
Due to some single breast.^ 

llosse. No mind, that's honest, 

But in it shares some wo; though the main part 
Pertains to you alone. 

Macd. " If it be mine, 

Keep it not from mc, quickly let me have it. 

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue for 
ever, 
"Which shall possess them with the haavest sound, 
That ever yet they heard. 

* Common distress of mind. I Catch. 

4: A grief that has a single owner. 

i ■ 23* 



r>TO BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Macd. Humph ! I guess at it. 

Rosse. Your castle is surpris'd; your wife and 
babes, 
Savagely slaughter'd: to relate the manner. 
Were, on the qaarry* of these murder'd deer, 
To add the death of you. 

Mai. Merciful heaven ! — 

What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon jonr brows; 
Give sorrovv' words: the grief, that does not speak. 
Whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break. 

Macd. My children too? 

Rosse. Wife^ children, servants, all 

That could be found. 

Macd. And I must be from thence ! 

My wife kill'dtoo? 

Rosse. I have said, 

Mai. <> Be comforted; 

Let's .nake us med'cines of our great revenge, 
To cure this deadly grief. 

Macd. He has no children. — All my prettv or\es? 
Did you say, ail?— O, hell-kite !— All? 
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam. 
At one fell swoop? 

Mai. Dispute it like a man. 

Macd. I shall do so; 

But I must also feel it as a man : 
I cannot but remember such things were. 
That were most precious to me. — 13id heaven look oa 
And would not take their part? Sinful iMacduif, 
They were all struck for thee ! naught that I am, 
Not for their own demerits, but for mine. 
Fell slaughter on their souls: Heaven rest them now! 

Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword: let 
grief 
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. 

Macd. O, I could play the woman with mine eycF, 
And braggart with my tongue ! — Bat, gentle heaven, 
Cut short all intermission;! front to front, 
Bring thou this fiend of Scotland, and myself; 

♦ The game afccr it is killed. t All pause. 



MACBETH. 271 

Within my sword's length set him; if he 'scape, 
Heaven forgive hio too ! 

Mai. This tune goes manly. 

Come, go Ave to the king; our power is ready; 
Our lack is nothing but our leave: Macbeth 
Is ripe for shaking, and the powers above 
Pjtt on their instruments. Receive what cheer you 

may; 
The night is long, that never j&nds the day. 

ACT V. 

SCENE.— Enier Lady Macbeth, with ^ 'i^er. 

Gent. Lo you, here she comes! This is her very 
guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Observe her; 
stand close. 

Doct. How came she by that light? 

Gent. Why, it stood by her: she has light by her 
continually; 'tis her command. 

Doct. V ou see her eyes are open. 

Gent. Ay, but their sense is shut. 

JDoct. What is it she does now ? Look, how she 
yubs her hands. 

Gent. It is an accustomed action Vv'ilh her, to seem 
thus washing her hands; I have known her continue 
in this a quarter of an hour. 

Lady M. Yet here's a spot. 

Doct. Kark, she speaks: I will set down what 
comes from her, to satisfy my remembrance the more 
strongly. 

Lady M. Out, damned spot! out, I say! — One; 

Two; Why, then 'tis time to do't:^ Hell is mur- 

liy!* — Ficj my lord, fie! a soldier, and afear'd.'' 
What need we fear who knows it, v/hcn none can 
call our pov/er to account?- -Yet who would have 
thought the old man to have had so much blood in 
jhim? 

Doct. Do you mark that? 

Lady M The thane of Fife liad a wife; Where is 
$he now.' What, will these fiands ne'er be clean? 

* Dark. v 



272 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

■ — No more o' that, my lord, no more o' that: You 
mar all with this starting. 

Doc*. Go tOj go tD; you have known what you 
should not. 

Gent. She has spoke what she should not, I am 
sure of that: Heaven knows Avhat she has known. 

Lady M. Here's the smell of the blood still: all 
the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little 
hand. Oh! oh! oh! 

Doct. What a sigh is there ! The heart is sorely 
charged. 

Gent. I would not have such a heart in my bosom, 
for the dignity of the whole body. 

Doct. Well, well, well, — 

Gent. 'Pray God, it be, sir. 

Doct. This disease is beyond my practice : Yet I 
have known those which have walked in their sleep, 
who have died holily in their beds. 

Lady M. Wash your hands, put on your night- 
gown; look not so pale:— i tell you yet again, Ban- 
cjuo's buried; he cannot come out of his grave. 

Doct. Even so? 

Lady M. To bed, to bed; there's knocking at the 
gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand; 
What's done, cannot be undone: To bed, to bed, to 
bed. 

DESPISCD OLD AGE. 

I have liv'd long enough: my way of life 
Is fall'n into the sear,* the yellow leaf: 
And that which should accompany old age, 
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, 
i must not look to have; but in their stead. 
Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honour, breath, 
Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not. 

DISEASES OF THE MIND INCURABLE. 

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd; 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain; 
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, 

* Drv. 



*i 



OTHELLO. 273 

Cleanse the stuff 'd bosom of that perilous stuff*, 
Which weighs upon the heart? 

REFLECTIONS ON LIFE. 

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, 
Creeps in this petty pace from daj^ to day. 
To the last syllable of recorded time; 
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to diisty death. Out, out, brief candle! 
iLife's but a walking shadow; a poor player. 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage, 
And then is heard no more : it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 
Signifying nothing. 

OTHELLO. 
ACT L 

PREFERMENT. 

'TIS the curse of service; 
Preferment goes by letter, and aff'ection, 
Not by the old gradation, where each second, 
Stood heir to the first. 

lAGO'S DISPRAISE OF HONESTY. 

We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
Cannot be truly foUow'd. You shall mark 
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave. 
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage. 
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, 
For nought but provender: and, when he's old, 

cashier'd: 
Whip me such honest knaves: Others there are, 
Who, ti imm'd in forms and visages of duty. 
Keep yet their hearts attending on themseh'^es; 
And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, 
Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'^d 

their coats. 
Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; 
And such a one do I profess myself. 
For sir, 



274 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE 

It is as sure as you are Roderigo, 

Were I the Moor, T would not be lago: 

In following him. I follow but myself; 

Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty, 

But seeming so, for my peculiar end: 

For when nw outward action doth demonstrate 

Ti'e native act and figure of my heari. 

In compliment extern.* 'tis not long after 

But T Avill wear my heart upon my sleeve 

For daws to peck at: I am not what I am. 

LOVE, Othello's sole motive for marrying 

For know, lago, 
But that I love the gentle Desdemona, 
I would not my unhousedf free condition 
Put into circumscription and confine 
For the sea's worth. 

OTHELLO'S DESCRIPTION TO THE SEX.ATE OP HIS 
WINNING THE AFFECTIONS OF DESDEMONA. 

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors. 
My very noble and approv'd good masters. 
That I have ta'en away this old man's daughter, 
It is most true; true, I have married her; 
The very head and front of my offending 
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am I in my speech 
And little bless'd with the set phrase of peace; 
For since these arms of mine hath seven years' pith, 
Till now some nine moons wasted, the}' have us'd 
Their dearest action^ in the tented field; 
And little of this great world can 1 speak, 
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle; 
And therefore little shall I grace my cause, 
In speaking for myself: Yet, by your gracious pa- 
tience, 
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 
Of my whole course of love; what drugs, what 

charms, 
What conjurations, and what mighty magic, 
(For such proceeding I am charged withal) 

* Outward sliow of civility. f XJnsettled. 

i Best exertion. 



OTHELLO. 275 

I won his daughter with. 

9 * * * 

Her father lov'd me; oft invited me; 

Still question'd me the story of my life, 

From year to year; the hatties, sieges, fortunes, 

That I have pass'd. 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days, 

:To the very moment that he made me tell it 

Wheitin I spoke of most disastrous chances; 

Of moving accidents, by flood, and field; 

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' the imminent deadly 

breach; 
Of being taken by the insolent foe, 
And sold to slavery: of my redemption thence, 
And jportance* in my travel's history : 
* * * » 

These things to hear, 

Would Desdemona seriously incline; 

But still the house affairs would draw her thence; 

'\Vhich ever as she could with haste despatch, 

She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 

Devour up my discourse: Which 1 observing, 

Took once a pliant hour; and found good means 

To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart. 

That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, " 

Whereof by parcelsf she had something heard. 

But not intentively:+ I did consent; 

And often did beguile her of her tears, 

When I did speak of some distressful stroke, 

That my youth suffer'd. My story being done, 

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: 

She swore, — In faith, 'twas strange, 'uvas passing 

strange; 
'Tvvas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful; 
She wish'd, she had not heard it: yet she wish'd 
That heaven had made her sucii a man: she tharA'd 
J me; 

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, 
J should but teach him how to tell my story, 

* My behaviour. t Parts. 

J Intention and attention were once synonyraoua. 



276 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And that would woo her. Upon this hint, 1 spake: 
She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'dj 
And I lov'd her, that she did pity them. 

ACT II. 

PERFECT CONTENT. 

O my soul's joy ! 
If after every tempest come such calms, 
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death I 
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, 
01ympu?-high; and duck again as low 
As hell's from heaven! If it Avere now to die, 
'Twere now to be most happy; for, I fear, 
My soul hath her content so absolute, 
That not another comfort like to this 
SuceeJs in unknown fate. 

ACT III. 

A lover's exclamation. 
Farewell, my Desdemona. I will come to thee 

straight. 

* * * * 

[Exit DesdejViona. 
Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul, 
But I do love tiiee ! and wdien I love thee not, 
Chaos is come again. 

OTHELLO'S FIRST SUSPICION. 

0!h. What dost thou thin^: ? 
■ la^o. Think, my lord.'' 

Olh. Think, my lord , 

By heaven, he echoes me, 
As if there were some monster in his thought 
Too hideous to be shown. — Thou dost mean some- 
thing: 
I heard thee say but now— Tiiou lik'dst not that, 
When Cassio left my wife; What did'bt not Hkei* 
And, when I told thee — he w^as of my counsel 
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, Indeed?- 
And didst contract and purse" thy brow together, 
As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain 



OTHELLO. trr 

Some horrible conceit: If thou dost love me,' 
Show me thy thought. 

lago. My lord, you know I love you. 

0th. I think, thou dost; 

And, for I know thou art fall of love and honesty, 
And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st them 

breath, — 
Therefore these stops of thine fright me the more: 
For such things, in a false disloyal knave. 
Are tricks of custom; but iu a man that's just. 
They are close denotements, w^orking from the heart, 
That passion cannot rule. 

REPUTATION. 

Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, 
Is the immediate jewel of their souls: 
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, 

nothing; 
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; 
But he, tl'it filches from me my good name, 
Robs me of that, which not enriches him, 
And makes me poor indeed. 

Othello's jealousy gaining grou2^d. 
This fellow's of exceeding honesty. 
And knows all qualities with a learned spirit, 
Of human dealings: If I do prove her haggard,'* 
Though that lier jcssesj were my dear heart-strings, 
I'd whistle her off, and let down the wind, 
To pray at fortune. Haply, for I am black; 
And have not tliose soft parts of conversation, 
That chamberers:}: have: — Or, for I am declin'd 
Into the vale of years; — yet that's not much; — 
She's gone; I am abus'd, and my relief 
Must be — to loath her. O curse of marriage, 
That we can call these delicate creatures ours. 
And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad, 
And live upon the vapour of a dungeon, 

* A species of hawk, also a term of reproach applied to 
a wanton, 

t Straps of leather by which a ha^i^ is held on the fist, 
t Men of intrioue. -• 

24 



278 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Than keep a corner in the thing I love, 
For other's uses. 

DEFINITION OF JEALOUSY. 

Trifles, light as air, 
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
As proofs of holy writ. 

lago. Look, where he comes! [Enter Othello. 
Not poppy, nor mandragora,* 
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, 
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
Which thou ow'dstf yesterday. 

Oth. Ila ! ha ! false to me ? 

Tome? 

lago. Why, how now, general? no more of that. 

Oth. Avaunt ! be gone ! thou hast set me on the 
rack: — 
1 swear, 'tis better to be much abus'd. 
Than but to know't a little. 

lago. How now, my lord ? 

Olh. W^hat sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? 
I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: 
I slept the next night wcl!, rvas free and merry; 
I found not Cassio's kisses upon her lips: 
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen. 
Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all. 

lago. I am sorry to hear this. 

Oik. I had been happy, if the general ca-np. 
Pioneer?:}: and all, had tasted her sweet body. 
So I had nothing known: O now, for ever. 
Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! 
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars. 
That make ambition virtue! O^ farewell! 
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, 
The royal banner; and all quality, 
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war 
And O you mortal engines, whose rade throats 

♦ The mandrake has a soporilic quality. 
i" Possessed 'sh 

t The vilest of the camp. Pioneers wers generally 
de2[raded soldiers. 



OTHELLO. 279 

The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, 
Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! 

lago. Is it possible ! — My lord, 

Oih. Villain, be sure thou prove my love a whore, 
Be sure of it; give me the occular proof: 

[ Taking him by the throat 
Or, by the wocth of mine eternal soul, 
Thou hadst been bi?tter have been born a dog, 
Than answer my wak'd Vt'rath. 

lago. Is it come to this? 

0th. JMakeme tosse it; or (at the least) so prove it, 
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop, 
To hang a doubt on : or, waupon Xhy life ! 

lago. My noble lord — • 

Oth. If thou doth slander her, and torture me, 
Never pray more: abandon all remorse:* 
On horror's head horrors accumulate: 
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth amaz'd. 
For nothing canst thou to damnation add, 
Greater than that. 

lago, O grace! O heaven defend me! 

Are you a man? have you a soul, or sense? — 
God be wi' you; take mine ofiice. — O wretched fool, 
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice! — 

monstrous world ! Take note ! take note, O world, 
To be direct and honest, is not safe.— 

1 thank you for this profit; and, from hence, 

I'll love no friend, since love breeds such Offence. 

Oth. Nay, stay: — Thou should'st be honest. 

lago. I should be wise: for honesty's a fool. 
And loses that it works for. 

Oth. By the world, 

I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; 
I think that thou art just, and think thou art not; 
I'll have some proof: Her name, that was as fresh 
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black 
As mine own face. — If there be cords, or knives. 
Poison, or fire, or suiFocating streams, 
I'll not endure it. — Would, 1 were satisfied! 

* All tenderness, all pity. 



280 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

OTHELLO'S STORY OF THE HANDKERCHIEF. 

0th. That handkerchief 
Did an Egyptian to my mother give; 
She was a charmer,* and could almost read 
The thoughts of people: she told her, while she 

kept itj 
'Twould make her amiable, and subdue my father 
Entirely to her love; but if she lost it, 
Or made a gift of it, my father's eye 
Should hold her loathly, and his spirits should hunt 
After new fancies: She, dying, gave it me; 
And bid me, when my fate would have me wive, 
To give it her. I did so: and take heed oft, 
Make it a darling like your precious eye; 
To lose or give 't away, were such perdition, 
As nothing else could match. 

J^es. Is it possible ? 

0th. 'Tis true: there's magic in the web of it: 
A sibyl that had number'd in the world 
The sun to make two hundred compasses, 
In her prophetic fury sew'dthe work. 
The worms were hallow'd, that did breed the silk; 
And it was died in mummy, which the skilful 
Conserv'd of maidens' hearts. 

A lover's COMPUTATION OF TIME. 

What I keep a week away ? seven days and nights? 
Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent hoars, 
More tedious than the dial eight score times.'* 
O weary reckoning ! 

ACT IV. 

OTHELLO'S DISTRACTION. 

*" ^. What hath he said.-* 

jago. 'Faith, that he did, — I know not what he did. 
Oth. What.? what.? 

lago. Lie 

Oth. With her? 

lago. With 'her, on her; what you will. 

Oth. Lie with her ! lie on her ! — We say, lie on 

* Enchantress. 



OTHELLO. 2SI 

her, when they belie her: Lie with her! that's ful- 
some. — Handkerchief, — confessions, — handkerchief. 
To confess, and be hanged for his labour.* — 'First to 
be hanged, and then to confess: — 1 tremble at it. Na- 
ture "would not invest hereelf in such shadowing 
passion, without some instruction. It is not words, 
that shake me thus: — Pish! — Noses, ears, and lips; 

— Is it possible? Confess! — Handkerchief! — O 

devil ! — ' [Falls in a iraiice. 

HIS FOICDNESS. 

A fine Tvoman ! a fair woman ! a sweet woman ! 

J^yg'o. Nay, you must forget that. 

0th. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be damned 
to-night;, for she shall not live: No, my heart is 
turned to stone: I strike it, and it hurts my hand. 
O, the world hath not a sweeter creature: she might 
lie by an emperor's side, and command him tasks. 

Jago. Nay, that's not your way. 

0th. Hang her; I do* but say what she is: So de- 
licate with her needle! — An admirable musician! O, 
she will sing the savageness out of a bear! — Of so 
high and plenteous wit and invention! — 

Ias;o. She's the worse for all this. 

0th. O, a thousand, a thousand times: — And then, 
of so gentle a condition !i- 

lago. Ay, too gentle. 

0th. Nay, that's certain: But yet the pit\^ of it, 
lago ! — 0, lago, the pit}"^ of it, lago. 

HIS CONFIIIMED JEALOUSY. 

0th. Mistress, 

Bes. My lord ? 

Oth. What would you with her, sir.-* 

Lod. Who, I, my lord? 

Oth. Ay; you did wish, that I would make her 
turn; 
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on, 
And turn again; and she can weep, sir, weep; 
And she's obedient, as you say, — obedient, — 
Very obedient; — Proceed you in your tears.— 

* A proverbial saying. 

t or so sweet a *fispo?ition. ■# 



282 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Concerning this, sir, — 0, well-painted passion; 
I am commanded home: — Get you away; 
I'll send for you anon. — Sir, I obey the mandate, 
And will return to Venice; — Hence, avaunt! 

[Exit DESDEfMONA. 

Cassio shall have my place. And, — sir, to-night, 
I do entreat that we may sup together. 
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus.— Goats, and mon- 
kies ! [Exit. 

HIS PATHETIC UPBRAIDING OF DESDEMONA. 

Des. Upon my knees, what doth j^our speech im- 
port ^ 
I understand a fury in your words. 
But not the words. 

0th. Why, what art thou? 

Des. Your %vife, m^ i^^rd; your true 

And loyal wife. 

Oth.' Come, swear it, darufi thyself; 

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves 
Should fear to seize thee: thejicfore be double- 

damn'd, 
Swear — thou art honest. 

Des. Heaven f'.jih truly know it. 

Oth. Heaven truly knows, ihrt thou art false as 
hell. 

Des. To whom, rtiy lord.? witi^ whom.? How am 
I false.? 

Oth. O Desdemona! away! nway! away! 

Des. Alas, the heavy da3^! — Why do you weep.? 
Am I the occasion of these teats, my lord.? 
If, hapl}^, 3^ou my falher do su; pect. 
An instrument of this your ca' dng back. 
Lay not your blame on me; if fou have lost him, 
Why, I have lost him too. 

Oth. H d it pleas'd heaven 

To try me with affliction: had he rain'd 
All kinds of sores, and shames . on my bare head; 
Steep'd me in poverty to the T^iry lips; 
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; 
I should have found in some jj^rt of my soul 
A drop of patience; but (ala.« ; to make me 



OTHELLO. 263 

A fixed figure, fijr the time of scorn 

To point his slow unmoving finger at, — 

O! O! 

Yet could I bear that too; well, very well: 

But there, where I have garner'd* up my heart; 

Where either 1 must live, or bear no life; 

The fountain from the v.hich my current runs, 

Or else dries up; to be discarded thence! 

Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads 

To knot and gender in ! — turn thy complexion there"' 

Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim; 

Ay, there, look grim as hell ! 

Des. I hope my noble lord esteems me honest. 

0th. O, ay; as summer flies are in the shambles, 
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed, 
Who art so lovely fair, and smell-st so sweet. 
That the sense aches at thee. — 'Would thou hadst 
ne'er been born ! 

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have I committed.'' 

0th. Was this fair paper, this most goodlj'^ book, 
Made to write whore upon ? What committed ! 
Committed ! — O thou public commoner ! 
I should make very forges of my cheeks, 
Tliat would to cinders burn up modesty. 
Did I but speak thj deeds. — What committed! 
Heaven stops the no^e at it, and the moon winks; 
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets, 
Is hush'd witJiin the hollow mine of earth, 
And will not hear it: What committed! — 
Impudent strumpet! ,- m 

JJes. By heaven, you do me wrong. 

0th. Are not you a strumpet.'' 

Des. No, as I am a christian: 

If to preserve this vessel for my lord, 
From any other foul unlawful touch, 
Be — not to be a strumpet, I am none. 

0th. What, not a whore .'' 

Des. No, as I shall be saved 

0th. Is it possible.^ 

Des. O, heaven forgive us! 

* Treasured up. 



234 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

0th. I cry you mercy, then; 

I took you for that cunning whore of \ enice, 
That married with Othello. 

desdemona's fidelity. 

O, good lago, 
What shall I do to win my lord again.'' 
Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, 
I know not how I lost him. Here 1 kneel: — 
If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, 
F.ithsr in discourse of thought, or actual deed; 
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sensC; 
Delighted them in any other form; 
Or that I do not yet, and ever did, 
And ever will — Though he do shake me off 
To beggarly divorcement, — love him dearly, 
Comfort forswear me! llnkindness may do much; 
And his unkindness may defeat my life. 
But never taint my love. 

ACT V. 

Othello's irresolution to murder desdemona. • 
SCENE.-— ./3 Bedchamber ; Desdemona in bed 

asleep. A light burning. 
It is the cause, it is the cause, m^^ soul, — 
Let me net name it to you, you- chaste stars' 
It is the cause.— Yet I'll not shed her blood; 
Nor scar that whiter skin of her's than snow. 
And smooth as monumental alabaster. 

• [ Takes off his sword. 

Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. 
Put out the light, and then put out the light:* 
If I quench thee, thou iianung minister, 
1 can again thy former light restore. 
Should I repent me: — but once put out thine. 
Thou cunning'st pattern of excelling nature, 
I know not where is that Promethean heat, 
That can thy light relume. When I have pluck'd 

thy rose, 
I cannot give it vital growth again, 

♦ i. e. Thee lisrht of life. 



OTHELLO. 235 

It needs must wither: — I'll smell it on the tree. — 

[Kissing her. 

balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
Justice to break her sword! — One more, one more. — 
Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kill thee. 
And love thee after: — One more, and this the last: 
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep, 

But they are cruel tears: This sorrow's heavenly: 
It strikes, where it doth love. 

HIS CONFUSION AFTER THE MURDER. 

Yes; — 'tis Emelia: — ^by and by. She's dead 
^Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death: 
The noise was high, — Ha! no more moving.'* 
Still as the grave. Shall she come in.-' Were't good? 

1 think, she stirs again: — No. — What's the best.'' 
If she come iii, she'll sure speak to my wife: 
My wife! my wife! what wife.'' — I have no wife: 
O, insupportable! O heavy hour! 

Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse 

Of sun and moon; and that the affrighted globe 

Should yawn at alteration. • 

HIS LOVE. 

Had she been true, 
If heaven would make me such another world 
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite,* 
I'd not have sold her for it. 

HIS REMORSE. 

. Behold! I have a weapon; 
A better pever did itself sustain 
Upon a soldier's thigh: I have seen the day, 
That, with this little arm, and this good sword, 
I have made my way through more impediments 
Than twenty times your stop: — But, O vain boast! 
Who can control his fate.^ 'tis not so now. — 
Be not afraid, though you do see me weapon'd; 
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt. 
And very sea mark of my utmost sail. 
Do you go back dismay'd.^ 'tis a lost fear, 
Man but a rush against Othello's breast, 
* A prscious stone. 



286 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And he retires: — "Where should Othello go? — 
Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench 
Pale as thy smock! when we shall meetatcompt* 
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven, 
And fiends will snatch at it cold. Cold, my girl? 
Even like thy chastity. — 

cursed, cursed slave! — Whip me, ye devils, 
From the possession of this heavenly sight! 
Blow me about in windSj roast me in sulphur! 
Wash me in steep down gulfs of liquid fire! — ■ 
ODesdemona! Desdemona! dead? 
Dead?G!0!0! 

HIS SPEECH BEFORE HIS DEATH. 

Soft you; a word or two, before you go. 

1 have done the state some service, and they know it, 
No more of that: — I pray j'ou, in your letters, 
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 
Sj3eak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, 

Nor set down aught in malice : then must you speak 

Of one, that lov'd not wisely, but too well; 

Of one, not easily jealous, but being wrought, 

Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand. 

Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away, 

Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdu'd eyes. 

Albeit unused to the inelting mood, 

Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 

Their medicinal gum: Set you down this: 

And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once, 

Where a malignant and a turban'd Turk 

Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state, . 

I took by the throat the circumcised dog, 

And smote him — thus. [Slabs himself. 

ROMEO AND JULIET. 
ACT I. 

I.OVE. 

LOVE is a smoke rais'd with the fume of sighs; 
Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; 
♦ Account. 



ROMEO xVND JULIET. 287 

Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: 
What is it else? a madness most discreet, 
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet? 

ON DREAMS. 

C, then, I see, queen Mab hath been with you. 
Slie is the fairies' midwife; and she comes 
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone 
On the fore-finger of an alderman, 
Drawn with a team of little atomies* 
Athwart men's noses as they he asleep: 
ITer wagon-spokes made of long spinner's legs; 
The cover, of the winc!;s of grasshoppers; 
The traces of the smallest spider's web; 
The collars, of the moonshine's watery beams: 
Her Avhip, of cricket's bone; the lash, of film: 
Her wagoner, a small gray-coated gnat, 
Not half so big as a round little worm 
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid; 
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, 
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub, 
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. 
And in this state she gallops night by night 
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love. 
On courtiers'' knees, that dream on court'sies straight. 
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees: 
O'er ladies' lips- who straight on kisses dream; 
Which oft the angry Mab ^vith blisters plagues, 
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are. 
Sonietim.es she gallops o'er a courtier's nose, 
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit :t 
And sometimes comes she with a tithe-pig's tail, 
Tickling a parson's noso as 'a lies asleep, 
Then dreams he of another benefice: 
Sometimes she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, 
And th^n dreams he of cutting foreign throats, 
Of breaches, anibuscadoes, Spanish blades. 
Of healths five fathom deep; and then anon 
Drums in his ear; at which he starts and wakes; 
And, being thus frighted, swears a prayer or two, 

♦ Atoms. t A place in court. 



283 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And sleeps again. This is that very Mab, 
That plats the manes of horses in the ni^ht; 
And bakes the elf-locks* in foul sluttish hairs, 
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes. 
This is the hag, %vhen maids lie on their backs, 
That presses them, and learns them first to bear^. 
Making them women of good carriage. 
This, this is she— 

Horn. Peace, peace, Mercutio, peace 

Thou talk'st of nothing. 

jrler. True, I talk of dreams; 

Which are the children of an idle brain, 
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy; 
Which is as thin of substance as the air; 
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes 
Even now, the frozen bosom of the north. 
And, being anger'd, pulls a>Yay fi^om thence, 
Turning his face to the dew-droj,-ping south. 

DESCRIPTION OF A Bi^j^^JTY. 

O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright' 
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Etbiop'sf ear: 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! 
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows, 
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. 

ACT II. 

THE GARDEN SCENE. 

Enter Romeo. 

Rom. He jests at scars that never felt a wound.— 
[Juliet appears above, ai a window. 
But, soft ! what4ight through yonder window breaks' 
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun ! — 
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon. 
Who is already sick and pale Avith grief. 
That thou her maid art far more fair than she: 
Be not her inaid,:]: since she is envious; 

* i. e. Fairy locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in 
the night. 

t An Ethiopian, a black. 

^A rotary to the moon, fo 'Oiiina. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 289 

Her vestal livery is but sick and green, 

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off. — 

It is my lady; O, it is my love: 

O, that slie knew she were! — 

She speaks, yet she says nothing; What of that; 

Her eye discourses, I will answer it. — 

I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks; 

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven. 

Having some business, do entreat her eyes 

To twinkle in their spheres till they return 

What if her eyes w^ere there, they in her head; 

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars, 

As daylight doth a lamp; her eye in heaven 

Would through the airy region stream so bright, 

That birds would sing, and think it were not night. 

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand! 

O, that I were a glove upon that hand, 

That I might touch that cheek! 

Jul. Ah, me! 

Rom. She speaks' 

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art 
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, 
As is a winged messenger of heaven 
Unto the white-upturned Avond'-ring eyes 
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on liim. 
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds, 
And sails upon t}»e bosom of the air. 

Jul. Romeo, Romeo ! v/herefore art thou Romeo.'' 
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: 
Or if tliGu Vvllt not, be but sworn my love, 
An<l I'll no longer he a Capulct. 

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this.-* 

[Aside. 

Jul. 'Tis but thy name, that is my enemy. 
***** 

What's in a name,^ that which we call a rose, 
By any other name would smell as sweet; 
So Romeo would, w^ere he not Romeo call'd, 
Retain that dear perfection which he ow^es,* 
Without that title: — Romeo, dofff thy name; 
* Owns, possesses. t Do off 

25 



290 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And for that name, which is no part of thee. 
Take all myself. 

Rom. I take thee at thy word: 

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptiz'd; 
Henceforth I never will be Romeo. 

Jul. What man art thou, that, thus bescreen'd 
night, 
So stumblest on my counsel? 

Rom. By a name 

I know not how to tell thee who I am: 
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, 
Because it is an enemy to thee; 
Had I it written, I would tear the word. 

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words 
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound; 
Art thou not Romeo, and a Montague .^ 

Rom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike. 

Jul. How cam'st thou hither, tell me.'' and where- 
fore ? 
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb, 
And the place death, considering who thou art, 
If any of my kinsmen find thee here. 

Rom. With love's light wings did I o'er-perch 
these walls; 
For stony limits cannot hold love out; 
And what love can do, that dares love attempt, 
Therefore, thy kinsmen are no let* to me. 

Jul. If they do see thee, they will murder thee. 

Rom. Alack ! there lies more peril in thine eye, 
Than twenty of their swords; look thou but sweet, 
And I am proof against their enmity. 

Jul. I would not for the world, they saw thee here. 

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from their 
sight; 
And, but thou love me,t let them find me here: 
My life were better ended by their hate. 
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. 

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out this 
place ? 

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to inquire; 
1 * Hinderance. f Uivless thou love me. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 291 

He'lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 

I am no pilot; yet, wertthou as far 

As that vast shore wash'd with the furthest sea, 

I would adventure for such merchandise. 

Jul. Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face 
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, 
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. 
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny 
What I have spoke; But farewell compliment! 
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say — Ay; 
And I will take thy word; yet, if thou swear'st, 
Thou may'st prove false: at lovers' perjuries, 
They say, Jove laughs. O, gentle Romeo, 
If thou dosl love, pronounce it faithfully; 
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, 
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, 
So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world. 
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; 
And therefore thou may'st think my 'haviour* light: 
But, trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true 
Than those that have more cunning to be strange. f 
I should have been more strange, I must confess, 
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware, 
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me; 
And not impute this yielding to light love, 
Which the dark night hath so discovered. 

Horn. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear, 
That tips with silver all the fruit-tree tops — — 

Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant 
moon. 
That monthl}'^ changes in her circled orb, , 

liest that thy love prove likewise variable. 

Rom. What shall I swear by ? 

Jul. Do not swear at all; 

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 
Which is the God of my idolatry, 
And I'll believe thee. 

Rom. If my heart's dear lore— 

Jul. Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee, 
I have no joy in this contract of to-night: 

* Behaviour. t Shy. 



292 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

It is too rash, too unadvis'd, too sudden: 
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be, 
Ere one can say — It lightens. Sweet, good night ! 
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet, 
Good night, good night; as sweet repose and rest 
Come \o thy heart, as that within my breast! 

Som. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied? 

Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? 

Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for 
mine. 

Jul I gave thee mine before thou didst request it: 
And yet I would it were to give again. 

Rom. Would'sc thou withdraw it? for what pur- 
pose, love? 

Jul. But to be frank,* and give it thee again. 
And yet I wish but fcr the thing I have; 
My bounty is as boundless as the sea, 
My love as deep; the more I give to thee, 
The more I have, for both are infinite. 

[Nurse call& within. 
I hear some noise within; Dear love, adieu! 
Anon, good nurse ! — Sweet Montague, be true. 
Stay but a little, I will couxs again. [Exit. 

Rom. O blessed, blessed niglit! I am afeard. 
Being in night, all this is but a dream, 
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. 
Re-enter Juliet, above. 

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, 
indeed. 
If that thy bentf of love be honourable. 
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow, 
By one that I'll piocure to come to thee. 
Where, and what time, thou wilt perforn: the rite; 
And all my fortunes at thy feet I'll lay. 
And follow tliee my lord throughout the world. 

Nurse. [Within.] Madam. 

Jul. I come, anon: — But if thou mean'st not well, 
I do beseech thee, — 

Nurse. [JVithiii.] Madam. 

* Free. t Inclination. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 2W 

Jul. By and by, T come:— 

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: 
To-morrow will I send. 

Horn. So thrive my soul. — 

Jul. A thousand times good night ! [Exit. 

Jttom. A thousand times the worse, to want thy 
light.— 
Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their 

books; 
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. 

[Retiring slowly. 
Re-enter' Juliet, above. 

Jul. Hist! Romeo, hist! — O, for a falconer's voice, 
To lure this tassel-gentle* back again! 
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; 
Else would i tear the cave where echo lies. 
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine 
With repetition of my Romeo's name. 

Ro7n. it is my soul, that calls upon my name! 
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, 
Like softest music to attending ears! 

Jul. Romeo ! 

Rom. My sweet ! 

Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow 

Shall I send to thee.'' 

Rom. At the hour of nine. 

Jul. I v/ill not fail; 'tis twenty years till then, 
I have forgot why I did call thee back. 

Rom. Let me stand here till thou remember it. 

Jul. I sliall Ibrget, to have thee still stand there, 
Rememb'ring how I love thy company. 

Rom. And I'll still sta}'; to have thee still forget, 
Forgetting any other home but this. 

Jul. ' Tis almost morning, I ^vouhl have thee gone 
And yet no farther than a wanton's bird; 
Who let's it hop a little from her hand. 
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,t 
And with a silk thread plucks it back again. 
So loving-jealous of his liberty. 

Rom. 1 would, I were thy bird. 

* The male of the goshawk. t Fetters. 

25* 



294 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE, 

Jul. Sweet, so would I: 

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
Goodnight, good night! parting is such sweet sor- > 
That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow, [row, | 
love's heralds. 

Love's heralds should be thoughts. 
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams, 
Driving back shadows over low'ring hills: 
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, 
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. 

VIOLENT DELIGHTS NOT LASTING. 

These violent delights have violent ends, 
And in their triumph die; like lire and powder, 
Which, as they kiss, consume. 

LOVERS LIGHT OP FOOT. 

O, so light a foot 
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: 
A lover may bestride the gossomers* 
That idle in the wanton summer air. 
And yet not fail; so light is vanity. 

ACT III. 

A lover's IMPATIENCE. 

Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
Towards Phoebus' mansion; such a wagoner ' 
As Phaeton would whip you to the west. 
And bring in cloudy night immediately. — 
Spread thy close curtain, love performing night; 
That run-away's eyes may wink; and Romeo 
Leap to these arms, untalk'd ol', and unseen! — 
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites 
By their own beauties: or, if love be blind. 
It best agrees with night. 

ROMEO ON HIS BANISHMENT. 

SCENE.— Frmr Laurence's Cell. 
Enter Friar Laurence mid Romeo. 
Fri. A gentler judgment vanished from his lips. 
Not body's death, but body's banishment. 

* The long white fiJament which .lies in the air. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 296 

JRom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say — death: 
For exile hath more terror in his look, 
Much more than death: do not say — banishment. 

Fi'i. Hence from Yerona art thou banished: 
Be patient: for the world is broad and wide. 

Horn. There is no world without Verona walls, 
But purgator}', torture, hell itself. 
Hence banished, is banished from the world, 
A.nd world's exile is death: — then banishment 
Is death mis-term'd: calling death — banishment, 
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe, 
And smil'st upon the stroke tha,t murders me. 

Fri. O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness! 
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince 
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, 
And turn'd that black word death to banishment: 
This is dear mercy and thou see'st it not. 

Rom. 'Tis torture and not mercy :'heaven is here, 
Where Juliet lives; and every cat and dog, 
And little mouse, every unworthy thing. 
Live here in heaven, and may look on her. 
But Romeo may not. — More validity,* 
More honourable state^ more courtship lives 
In carrion flies, than Romeo; they may seize 
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, 
And steal immortal blessing from her lips; 
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty. 
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; 
But Romeo mav not; he is banished: 
Flies may do this, Avhen i from this must fly; 
They are free men, but I am banished. 
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death? 
Hadst thou no poison, mix'd, no sharp-ground knife. 
No sudden mean of death, tliough ne'er so mean. 
But — banished — to kill me; banished? 
O friar, the damned use that A^ord in hell; 
Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart. 
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor^ 
A sin-absolv'?r, and my friend profess'd, 

• Worth, value 



296 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

To mangle ms with that word — banishment? 

Fri. Thou fond madman, hear me but speak a word. 

jftom. O, thou Avilt speak again of banishment. 

Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep otf that wordj 
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy, 
To comfort thee, though thou art banished. 

Rom. Yet banished? — Hang up philosophy! 
Unless philosophy cefn make a Juliet, 
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom; 
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more. 

Fri. O, then I see that madmen have no ears. 

Rom. How should they, when that wise men have 
no eyes? 

Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. 

Rom. Thou canst not speak of what thou dost not 
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet thy love, , [feel; 
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered. 
Doting like me, and like me banished, 
Then might'st thou speak, then rnight'st thou tear thy 
And fall upon the ground, as I do now, [hair, 

Taking the measure of an unmade grave, 

RELUCTANCE OP LOVEP.S TO PART 

SCENE. Juliet's Chamber. 

Jul. Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: 
It was the nightingale, and not the lark. 
That pierc'd the fearful hollow of thine ear; 
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: 
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale. 

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of The Ihorn, 
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks 
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: 
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
Stands tiptoe on the misty mounr.ain tops; 
I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, I kno^v it, I; 
It is some meteor that the sun exhales, 
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer, 
And light thee on thy way to Mantua: 
Therefore stay yet, thou necd'st not to be gone. 

Mom. Let me be ta'er, let me be put to death; 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 207 

I am content, so thou wilt have it so. 
I'll say, yon gray is not the morning's eye, 
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;* 
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat 
The vault}' heav'n so high above our heads: 
I have more caref to stay, than will to go: — 
Come, death, and welcome ! Juliet wills it so. — 
How is't, my soul.'' let's talk, it is not day. 

ACT IV 
Juliet's resolution. 

O bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, 
From off the battlements of yonder tower; 
Or v/alk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk 
Where serpents are, chain me with roaring bear?: 
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, 
O'er cover'd quite with dead men's rattling boneSj * 
With reeky shanks, and yellow chapless skulls; 
Or bid me go into a new-made grave, 
And hide me with a dead man.in his shroud; 
Things that, to hear them told, have made me 

tremble; 
And I will do it without fear or doubt. 
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love. 

Juliet's soliloquy on drinking the opiate. 

Farewell ! — God knows, when we shall meet ai^^ain. 
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, 
That almost freezes up the heat of life: 
I'll call them back again to comfort me; — 
Nurse! — What should she do here.'' 
My dismal scene I needs must act alone. — 
Come, phial. — 

What if this mixture do not work at all.-* 
Must I of force be married to the county? — 
No, no; — ^this shall forbid it: — lie thou there. — 

[Laying down a dagger. 
What if it be a poison, which the iriar 
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead; 
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonourM, 

• Reflection of the moon. t Inclination. 



298 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Because he marry 'd me before to Romeo? 

1 fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not, 

For he hath still been tried a holy man : 

I will not entertain so bad a thought. — 

How if, when I am laid into the tomb, 

I wake before the time that Romeo 

Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! 

Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, 

To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, 

And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? 

Or, if I live, it is not very like, 

The horrible conceit of death and night. 

Together with the terror of the place, — 

As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, 

Where, for these many hundred years, the bones 

Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd; 

Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, 

Lies fest'ring in his shroud; where, as they say, 

At some hours in the night spirits resort; — 

Alack, alack ! i<* it not like, that I, 

So early waking, — what with loathsome smells; 

And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,. 

That living mortals, hearing them, run mad;* — 

O ! if I wake shall I not be distraught,! 

Environed with all these hideous fears? 

And madly play with my forefathers' joints? 

And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? 

And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, 

As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? 

O, look! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost 

Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body 

Upon a rapier's point: — Stay, Tybalt, stay? — 

Romeo, I come I this do I drink to thee. 

[She th) nios herself on the bed. 

* The fabulous accounts of the plant called a man- 
drake give it a degree of animal life, and when it is torn 
from the ground it groans, which is fatal to him that 
pulls it up, 

t Distracted. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 29d 

JOY CHANGED TO SORROW. 

All things, that we ordained festival, 
Turn from their office to black funeral: 
Our instruments to melancholy bells; 
Our wedding cheer, to a sad buria.1 feast; 
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change; 
Our bridal flowers serve for a; buried corse, 
And all things change them to the contrary. 

ACT V. 

ROMEO's DESCRIPTION AND DISCOURSE WITH THB 
APOTHECARY 

Well, Juliet, 1 will lie with thee to-night. 
Let's see for means: — O^ mischief, thou art swift 
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men ! 
I do remember an apothecary, — 
And hereabouts he dwells — whom late 1 noted 
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows, 
Culling of simples;* meagre were his looks, 
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung. 
Sharp misery had Avorn him to the bones: 
An alligator stuff' d^ and other skins 
Of ill-shap'd fishes; and about his shelves 
A beggarly account of empty boxes. 
Green earthen potS; bladders and musty seeds. 
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses, 
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show. 
Noting this penur}', to myself I said — 
And if a man did need a poison now, 
Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him. 
O, this same thought did but fore-run my need; 
And this same needy man must sell it me. 
As I remember, this should be the house; 
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut. — 
What, ho ! apothecary ! 

Enter Apothecary. 

Jlp, Who calls so loud? 

Rom. Come hither, man. — I see that thou art 
poor; 

* Herbs. 



300 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have 

A dram of poison : such soon speeding geer* 

As will disperse itself through all the veins, 

That the life-weary taker may fall dead; 

And that the trunk may be discharg'd of breath 

As violently, as hasty powder fir'd 

Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb. 

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law 
Is death to any he that utters them. 

Bom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretchedness,. 
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, | 

Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes. 
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, 
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law; 
The world affords no law to make thee rich; 
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. 

Jlp. My pov-erty, but not ray will, consents. 

Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. 

Jlj}. Put this in any liquid thing you will. 
And drink it off; and if you had the strength 
Of twenty men it would despatch you straight. 

Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to men's 
souls. 
Doing more murders in this loalhsome world, 
Than these poor compounds that thou may'st not sell: 
I sell thee poison, thou hast sold me none. 
Farewell; buy food, and get thyself in flesh. 

THE CONTEST OF ROMEO AND PARIS. 

Par. Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague; 
Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death? 
Condemned villain, I do appreliend thee: 
Obey, and go with me; for thou maist die. 

Rom. I must, indeed, and therefore came I hither. 
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. 
Fly hence and leave me; — think upon these gone; 
Let them affright thee. — I beseech thee, youth, 
Heap not another sin upon my heaii, 
By urging me to fury: — O, be gone! 
By heaven, I love thee better than myself: 
For I come hither, arm'd against myself: 

* Stuff 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 801 

Stay notj begone: — live, and hereafter say — 
A madman's mercy bade thee run away. 

Par. I do defy thy conjurations,* 
And do attach thee as a felon here. 

Rom. Wilt thou provoke me ? then have at thee, 

boy. [They fight. 

« * * * 

Pai'. O, I am slain! [Falls.] — If thou be merciful, 
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. [Dies. 

Rom. In faith, I v/ill: — Let me peruse this face; — 
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paris: — 
What said ray man, when my betossed soul 
Did not attend him as we rode? I think, 
He told mc, Paris should have married Juliet: 
Said he not so? or did I dream it so? 
'Or am I mad, hearing; him talk of Juliet, 
To think it v/as so! — give me thy hand, 
One V. rit with me in sour misfortune's book ! 

jROMEO'S LAST SPEECH OVER JULIET IN THE TOMB. 

O, my love! my wife! 
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath, 
Hath had no po^ver yet upon thy beauty: 
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet 
Is crimson in thy lips, and in thy cheeks, 
And death's paie flag is not advanced there.-^ 
Tybalt, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet? 
O, vchat more favour can I do to thee. 
Than with that hand that cut th}' youth in twain, 
Te sunder his that was thine enemy! 
Fo; give me, cousin ! — Ah, dear Juliet, 
Why art thou yet so fair ! Shall I believe 
That unsubstantial death is amorous; 
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
Thee here in dark to be his paramour! 
For fear of that, I will still stay with thee; 
And never from this palace of dim night 
Depart again; here, here will I remain 
With worms that are thy chambermaids; 0, here 
Will I set up my everlasting rest; 

^ • I refuse to do as thou conjurest me to do, i. e. depart. 



S02 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars 
From this world- wearied flesh. — Eyes, look your last: 
Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you 
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
A dateless bargain to engrossing death !— 
Come, bitter conduct,* come unsavoury guide! 
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark ! 
Here's to my love! — [Drinks.] O, true apothecary! 
Thy drugs are quick. — T'lus Avith a kiss I die. [Dies, 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT I. 

PAINTING. 

THE painting is almost the natural man; 
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature. 
He is but outside: These pencil'd figures are 
Even such as they give out.f 

THE PLEASURE OF DOING GOOD. 

O, you gods, think I, what need we have any 
friends, if we should never have need of them? they 
were the most needless creatures living, should we 
ne'er have use for them: and would most resemble 
sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their 
sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished 
myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. 
We are born to do benetits: and what better or pro- 
perer can we call our own, than the riches of our 
friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so 
many, like brothers, commanding one another's for- 
tunes! 

ACT II. 

A FAITHFUL, STEWARD. 

So the gods bless me, 
When all our office§| have been oppress'd 

* Conductor. f Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are 
what they profess to be. 

t The apartments allotted to culinary offices, &c 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 303 

With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept 
With drunken spilth of wine: when every room 
Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy; 
I have retired roe to a wasteful cock,* 
And set mine eyes at flow, 

INGR>TITUDE. 

They answer in a joint and corporate voice, 
That now they are at fall,t want treasure, cannot 
Do what they would; are sorry — ^you are honour- 
able, — 
Butyet they could have wish'd — they know not — ^but 
Something hath been amiss — a noble nature 
May catch a wrench — would all were well — 'tis 

pity — 
And so, int^ndingt other serious matters. 
After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions,§ 
With certain half-caps||, and cold-moving nods, ^ 
They froze me into silence. 

ACT III. 

THE MISERABLE SHIFTS OF INGRATITUDE. 

Ser. My honoured lord, — [To Lucius. 

Luc. Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare 
thee well: — Commend me to thy honourable virtuous 
lord, my very exquisite friend. 

Ser. May it please your honour, my lord hath 
sent 

Luc. Ha ! what has he sent ? I am so much en- 
deared to that lord; he's ever sending: How shall I 
thank him, thinkest thou ? And what has he sent now ? 

Ser. He has only sent his present occasion now, 
my lord; requesting your lordship to supply his in- 
stant use with so many talents. 

Ltic. I know, his lordship is but merry with me; 
He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents. 

* A pipe with a turning stopple running to waste, 
t i. e. At an ebb. t Intending, had anciently the 

same meaning as attending. 

§ Broken hints, abrupt remarks. 

il A half cap is a cap slightly moved, not put off. 



S04 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. 
If his occasion were not virtuous,* 
I should not urge it half so faithfully. 

Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? 

Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir. 

Luc. What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish 
myself against such a good time, when I might have 
shown myself honourable? how unluckily it happened, 
that I should purchase the day before for a little part, 
and undo a great deal of honour; — Servilius, now 
before the gods, 1 am not able to do't; the more beast, 
I say: — I was sending to use lord Timon myself, 
these gentlemen can witness; but I would not, for 
the wealth of Athens, I had done it now. Commend 
me bountifully to his good lordship; and I hope his 
honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I 
have no power to be kind: And tell him this from me, 
I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I 
cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. 
Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, as to use 
mine own words to him? 

Ser. Yes, sir, I shall. 

Luc. I will look you out a good turn, Servilius. — • 

[Exit Servilius. 
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed; 
And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed. [Exit. 

AGAINST DUELLING. 

Your words have took such pains, as if they la- 

bour'd 
To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling 
Upon the head of valour; which, indeed. 
Is valour misbegot, and came into the world 
When sects and factions were but newly born; 
He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer 
The worst that man can breathe; and make his 

wrongs 
His outsides; wear them like his raiment, carelessly; 
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, 
To bring it into danger. 

* " If he did not want it for a good use." 



TIMON OF ATHENS. SOS 

ACT IV. 

TIMON'S execration of the ATHENIANS. 

SCENE.— Without the walls of Athens. 
Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall, 
That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth, 
And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent! 
Obedience fail in children ! slaves, and fools, 
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench. 
And minister in their stead ! to general filths* 
Convert o' the instant, green virginity! 
Do't in your parent's eyes! bankrupts, hold fast; 
Rather than render back, out Avithyour knives, 
And cut your truster's throats ! bound servants, steal • 
J^arge handed robbers your grave masters are. 
And pill by lav/! maid, to thy master's bed; 
Thy mistress is o' the brothel! son of sixteen, 
Pluck the lin'd crutch from the old limping sire, 
AVith it beat out his brains ! piety, and fear. 
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, 
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood. 
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, 
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws. 
Decline to your confounding contraries,! 
And yet confusion live! — Plagues incident to me", 
Your potent and infectious fevers heap 
On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica, 
Cripple our senators, that their limbs maj- halt 
As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty !| 
Creep in the minds and marrows of our youth; 
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may strive, 
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blains, 
Sow^ all the Athenian bosoms; and their crop 
Be general leprosy ! breath infect breath; 
That their society, as their friendship, may 
Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee. 
But nakedness, thou detestable town ! 

* Coinmon sewers. 

t i. e. Contrarieties, ^vhose nature it in to waste or de- 
stroy each other. X For libertinism. 
26* 



306 BEAUTIES OF SHAKS?EARE 

A FRIEND FORSAKEN. 

As we do turn our backs 
From our companion, thrown into his grave: 
So his familiars to his buried fortunes 
Slink all away; leave their false vows with him 
Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor self, 
A dedicated beggar to the air, 
With his disease of all-shuim'd poverty, 
Walks, like contempt, alone. 

ON GOLD. 

Earth, yield me roots! [Digging. 

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate 
With thy most operant poison ! What is here ? 
Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, 
I am no idle votarist.* Roots, you clear heavens! 
Thus much of this, will make black, white; foul, 

fair; 
VYrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, 

valiant. 
Ha, you gods! why this? What this, you gods? 

Why this 
Will lug your priests and servant^ from your sides. 
Pluck stout men's pillows fron^ b '/ their heads: 
This yellow slave 

Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; 
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves. 
And give them title, knee, and approbation. 
With senators on the bench: this is it. 
That makes the wappen'df widow wed again; 
She, whom the spital-house, and ulcerous sores 
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and spices 
To t^ie April day again.j: Corns, damned earth. 
Thou coTimon whore of mankind, that put'st odds 
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee 
Do thy right nature. 

* No insincere cr inconstant supplicant. Gold will not 
serve me instead of roots. 

t Sorrowful. 

t i. e. Gold restores her to all the sweetness and fresh- 
ness of youth. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 307 

TIMON TO ALCxBIADES. 

Go on,— here's gol«^, — go on; 
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove 
Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison 
In the sick air : let not thy sword skip one : 
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard, 
He's an usurer: Strike me the counterfeit matron: 
It is her habit only that is honest, 
Herself's a bawd: Let not the virgin's cheek 
Make soft thy trenchant* sword; for those milk paps. 
That through the window-bars bore at men's eyes, 
Are not within the leaf of pity writ, 
Set them down horrible traitors: Spare not the babe, 
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; 
Think it a bastard, f whom the oracle , 

Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut, 
And mince it sans remorse : j: Swear against objects;§ 
Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes; 
Whose proof nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, 
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, i 
Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pa}^ thy soldiers; 
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, , 

Confounded be thyself! Speak not, be gone. 

•'--' T TO THE COURTES.VI-.S. 

Consumption sow 
In hollow bones of man; strike their sharp shins, 
And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's voice, 
That he may never more false title plevid, 
Nor sound his quillet.s|l shrilly; hear the llamcn. 
That scolds against the quality of flesh. 
And not believes himself: down Avith the nose, 
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away 
Of him, that his particular to foresee. 
Smells from the general weal: make curl'd-pate ruf- 
fians bald; 
And let the unscar'd braggarts of the war 
Derive some pain from you, 

♦Cutting. t An allusion to the tale of Ccdipus 

4: Without pity. 

§ i. e. Against objects of charity and compassion. 
11 Subtilties. 



303 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

HIS REFLECTIONS ON THE EARTH. 

That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, 

, thou, 
[Digging. 

"Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast,* 
Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle. 
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff 'd, 
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue. 
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd wormt 
With all the abhorred births below crispt heaven 
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shinej 
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate. 
From forth thy plenteous bosom one poor root! 
Ensear thy fertile and conceptions womb, 
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man I 
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears: 
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face 
Hath to the marbled mansion all above 
Never presented! — O, a root, — Dear thanks! 
Dry up thy marrow, vines, and plough-torn leas; 
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts, 
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, 
That from it all consideration slips! 

HIS DISCOURSE WITH APEMANTUS. 

Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected. 
A^poor unmanly melancholy, sprung 
From change of fortune. Why this spade? this 

place? 
This slave-like habit? and these looks of care? 
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft; 
Hug their diseas'd perfames,§ and have forgot'" "' ' 
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, 
By putting on the cunning of a carper, j] 
Be thou a flatterer now, and seel: to thrive 
By that which has undone thee, hinge thy knee, 
And let his breath, whomthou'lt observe, 

* Boundieps surface. 

t The serpent called the blind worm. t Bent 

§ t. e. Their diseascjd perfumcu mistresses. 

II i. e. Shame not these woods by fin.'lirg fault. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 309 

Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain, 
And call it excellent: Thou wast told thus; 
Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid wel- 
come. 
To knaves, and all approachers; 'Tis most just, 
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again, 
Rascals should hav't. Do not assume my likeness. 
Tim. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. 
^pem. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like 
thyself; 
A madman so long, now a fool: What think'st 
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain. 
Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moss'd 

trees. 
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels. 
And skip when thou point'st out. Will the cold 

brook, 
Candied vdth ice, caudle thy morning taste. 
To cure thy o'ernight's surfeit.'' call the creatures, — 
Whose naked natures live in all the spite 
Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks, 
To the conflicting elements expos'd. 
Answer mere nature, — bid them flatter thee; 

! thou Shalt find— 

* * * # » 

Tim. Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender 
arm 
With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog. 
Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath,* proceeded 
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords 
To such as may the passive drugs of it 
Freely command, thou would'st have plung'd thy- 
self 
In general riot; melted down thy youth 
In different beds of lust; and never learn'd 
The icy precepts of respectf but follow'd 
The sugar'd game before thee. But myself, 
Who had the world as my confectionary; 

* From infancy. 

t The cold admonitions of cautious prudence. 



SIO BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

The months^ the tongues, the eyes, ana hearts of 

men 
At duty, more than I could frame employment; 
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves 
Do on the oak, have with one wdnter'§ brush 
Fell from their boughs, and left rae open, bare 
For every storm that blov>-«; — I, to bear this 
That never knew but better, is some burden: 
Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time 
Hath made thee hard in-t. Why shouldest thou 

hate men? 
They never fiatter'd thee: What hast thou given 
If thou wilt curse — th}'' father, that poor rag, 
Must be thy subject: who, in spite, put stutl" 
To some she beggar, and compounded thee 
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence ! be gone ! — 
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men 
Thou hadst been a knave, and flatterer. 

ON GOLD. 

O, thou sweet king-kiilcr. and dear divorce 

[Looking on the Gold. 
Twixt natural son and sire; Thou bright defiler 
Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! 
Thou ever young, fresh, lovM, and delicate wooer, 
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
That lies on Dian's lap I thou visible god, 
That solder'st close impossibilities. 
And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every 

tongue, 
To every purpose; O, thou touch* of hearts! 
Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue 
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts 
May have the world in empire ! 

TIMON TO THE THIEVES. 

Why should you want? Behold the earth hath roots; 
Within this mile break forth a hundred springs: 
The oaks bear mast, the briars scarlet hips; 
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush 
Lays her full mess before you. Want? why want? 

* For touchstone. 



TIMON OF ATHENS,. 311 

I J^ief. We cannot live on grass, on berries, 
water, , 

As beasts, and birds, and fishes. 

Tim. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and 
fishes; 
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, 
That you are thieves profess'd ; that you work not 
In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft/ 
In limited* professions. Rascal thieves. 
Here's gold : Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape, 
Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth. 
And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician; 
His antidotes are poison, and he slays 
More than you rob: take wealth and lives together; 
Do, villany, do, since you profess to do't. 
Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery: 
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction 
Robs, the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief. 
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun: 
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 
The moon into salt tears: the earth's a thief. 
That feeds and breeds by a composturef stolen 
From general excrement: each thing's a thief; 
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power 
Have^uncheck'd theft. Love not yourselves: away; 
Rob one another. There's more gold : Cut throats; 
All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go, 
Break open shops; nothing can you steal. 
But thieves do lose it. 

ON HIS HOKEST STEWARD. 

Forgive my general and cxceptless rashness, 
Perpetual sober gods! I do proclaim 
One honest man, — mistake me not, — but one: 
No more, I pray, — c^nd he is a steward. — 
How fain would i have hated all mankind, 
And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee, 
1 fell with curses. 

JMeihinks thou art more honest nov/, than wise, 
Tor, by oppressing and betraying me. 
Thou might'st have sooner got another service; 

• For legal. t CoiApost manure. 



312 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

For many so arrive at second masters, 
Upon their first lord's neck, 

ACT V. 

PROMISING AND PERFORMANCE. 

Promising is the very air o' the time : it opens the 
eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller 
for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind 
of people, the deed of saying* is quite out of use. 
To promise is most courtly and fashionable: perform- 
ance is a kind of will ov testament, which argues a 
great sickness in his judgment that makes it. 

WRONG AND INSOLENCE. 

Now breathless wrong 
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease; 
And pursy insolence shall break his wind, 
With fear and horrid flight. 



TITUS ANDRONiCUS. 



ACT I. 



MERCY. • 

WILT thou draw near the nature of the gpds? 
Draw near them then in being merciful: 
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. 

THANKS. 

Thanks, to men 
Of noble minds, is honourable meed. 

ACT II. 

INVITATION TO LOVE. 

The birds chant melody on every bush; 
The snake lies roiled in the cheerful sun; 
The green leaves quiver Vv ith the cooling wind, 
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground; 
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, 
And — whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds^ 

♦ The doing of that we said we would do. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. Bit 

Replying shrilly to the vvell-tun'd horn?, 
As if a double hunt Avere heard at once, — 
Let us sit down, and mark their yelling noise 1 
And, after conflict, such as was suppos'd 
The wandering prince of Dido once enjoy'd, 
When with a happy storm they were surpris'd, 
And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave, — 
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, 
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; 
While hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds, 
Be unto us, as is a nurse's song 
Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. 

DESCRIPTION OF A MELANCHOLY VALLEY. 

A barren detested vale, you see, it is: 
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, 
O'ercome with moss, and baleful misletoe. 
Here never shines the sun; here nothing breeds, 
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven. 
And, when they show'd me this abhorred pitj 
They told me, here, at dead time of the night, 
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes, 
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins * 
Would make such fearful and confused cries, 
As any mortal body, hearing it, 
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenl3^ 

DESCRIPTION OF A RING. 

Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole, 
Which, like a taper in some monument. 
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks, 
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit. 

LAVINA AT HER LUTE. 

Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, 
And in a tedious sampler scw'd her mind: 
But lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee: 
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal, 
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, 
That could have better sew'd than Philom*.' 
0, had the monster seen those lily hands 

♦ Hedge- 
27 



314 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

Tremble, like aspen leaves, upon a lute, 

And make the silken strings delight to kiss them; 

He would not then have touch'd them for his life: 

Or had he heard the heavenly harmony, 

Which that sweet tongue hath made. 

He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep, 

As Cerberus, at the Thracian poet's* feet. 

ACT III. 

LAVINA-'S LOSS OF HER TONGUE DESCRIBED. 

O, that delightful engine of her thoughts, 
That blab'd them with such pleasing eloquence, 
Is torn from forth that pretty hollo.w cage: 
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear! 

DESPAIR. 

For now I stand as one upon a rock. 
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; 
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, 
Expecting ever when some envious surge 
Will, in his brinish bowels, swallow him. 

TEARS. 

When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears 
Stood on her cheeks; as doth the honey dew 
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. 

CRUELTY TO INSECTS. 

Mar. Alas, my lord, I have but kill'd a fly. 

Tit. But how, if that fly had a father and mother 
How would he hang his slender gilded wings. 
And buz lamenting doings in the air! 
Poor harmless fly ! 

That with his pretty buzzing melody, [him. 

Came here to make us merry; and thou hast kill'd 

REVENGE. 

Lo, by thy side where Rape, and Murder, stand 
Now give some 'surance that thou art Revenge, 
Slab them, '^r tear thera on thy chariot wheels; 
And then I'll come, and be thy wagoner, 
And whirl along with thee about the globejJ. 
* Orplieus. 



V 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 315 

Provide the proper palfries, black as jet. 

To hale th}-^ vengeful wagon swift away. 

And find out murderers in their guilty caves: 

And, when thy car is load en with their heads, 

I will dismount, and by the wagon wheel 

Trot, like a servile footman, all day long; ' 

Even from Hyperion's rising in the east. 

Until his verv downfall in the sea. 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 

ACT I. 

LOVK IN A BRAVE YOUNG SOLDIER. 

CALL here my varlet,* I'll unarm again: 
Why should I v. ar without the walls of Troy, 
That find such .;rael battle here within? 
Each Trojan, that is master of his heart, 
^'iCt him to field; Troilus, alas! hath none. 

* * * * 

The Greeks are strong and skilful to their strength, 
Fierce to their skill, and to their fierceness valiant; 
But I am weaker then a vvoman's tear. 
Tamer than sheep, fonderf than ignoi?ance; 
Leis valiant than the virgin in the night, 
And skill-less as unpractis'd infancy. 

* * * # 

O Pandarus! I tell thee, Pandarus, — 
When I do tell thee. There my hopes lie drown'd, 
Reply not in how many fathoms deep 
They lie endrench'd. I tell thee, I am mad 
In Cressida's love: Thou answer'st, she is fair; 
Pour'st in the open ulcer of my heart 
Her eyes, her hair, h^ cheek, her gait, her voice; 
Handiest in thy discourse, O, that her hand, 
In whose comparison all whites are ink. 
Writing their own reproach; to whose soft seizure 
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense 
Hard as the palm of ploughmen ! This thou tell'st me, 

♦ A servant to a knight. t Weaker. 



316 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

As true thou tell'st me, when I say — I love her; 
But, saying thus, instead of oil and balm, 
Thou lay'st in every gash that love hath given me 
The knife that made it. 

SUCCESS NOT EQ,UAL TO OUR HOPES. 

The ample proposition, that hope makes 
In all designs begun on earth below, 
Fails in the promis'd largeness: checks and disasters 
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd: 
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap. 
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 
Tortive and errant* from his course of gro^vth. 

ADVERSITY THE TRIAL OF MAN. 

Why then, you princes, 
Do you with cheeks abashed behold our works; 
And think them shames, whicti are, indeed, nough*' 

else, 
But the protractive trials of great Jove, 
To find persistive constancy in men .'' 
The fineness of which metal is not found 
In fortune's love; for, the bold and coward, 
The wise and fool, the artist and unread, 
The hard and soft, seem all affin'df and kin: 
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, 
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan, 
Puffing at all, winnows the light away; 
And what hath mass, or matter, by itself 
Lies, rich in virtue, and unmingled. 

ON DEGREE. 

Take but degree away, untune that string, 
And hark, w^hat discord follows! ?ach thing meets 
In mere:|: oppugnancy: The bounded waters 
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores. 
And make a sop of all this soW globe: 
Strength should be lord of imbecility. 
And the rude son should strike his father dead: 
Force should be right; or, rather, right and wrong 
(Between whose endless jar justice resides) 

♦ Twisted and rambling. t Joined by affinity. 
* Absolute. 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. B17 

Should lose their names, and so should justice too. 

Then every thing includes itself in power, 

Power into will, will into appetite; 

And appetite, an universal wolf. 

So doubtedly secondly Avith will and power. 

Must make perforce an universal prey, 

And, last, eat up himself. 

ACHILLES DESCRIBED BY ULYSSES. 

The great Achilles, — (whom opinion crowns) 
The sinew and the forehand of our host, — 
Having his ear full of his airy fame. 
Grows dainty of his worth, and in his tent 
Lies mocking our designs: With him, Patroclus, 
Upon a lazy bed the live-long daj' 
Breaks scurril jests; 

And v^'ith ridiculous and awkward action 
(Which, slanderer, he imitation calls,) 
He pageants* us. Sometime, great Agamemnon, 
Thy toplesst deputation he puts on; 
And, like a strutting player, — v/hose conceit 
Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich 
To hear the wooden dialogue ami sound 
'Tw'ixt his stretch'd footing and the scaifoIdage,| — 
Such to-be-pitied and o'er-Avrested§ seeming 
He acts thy greatness in: and when he speaks, 
'Tis like a chime a mending; with terms unsquair'd,|| 
Which from the tongue of roaring Typhon dropp'd. 
Would seem hyperboles. At this fnsty stutf, 
The large Achilles, on his prest bed lolling, 
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause; 
Cries — Excellent ! — His Agamemnon jw5/. — 
Now ploy me Nestor; — hem, and stroke thy heard, 
As he, being drest to some oration. 
That's done; — as near as the extremest ends 
Of parallels: as like as Vulcan and his wife: 
Yet good Achilles still cries. Excellent! 
'Tis Nestor ri'j^hi! Novj play him me, Patroclus, 
Arming to ansioer in a night alarm. 

* In modern language, takes us off. 

t Supreme. if The galleries of the theatre. 

§ Beyond the truth. II Unadopted 
27* 



318 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age 
Must be the scene of mirth; to cough, and spit, 
And with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget, 
Shake in and out the rivet : — and at this sport, 
Sir Valour dies: cries, O! — enough, Patroclus, 
Or give me ribs of steel! I shall split all 
In pleasure of my spleen. And in this fashion, 
All our abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, 
Severals and generals of grace exact. 
Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, 
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce, 
Success, or loss, what is, or is not, serves 
As stuff for these two to make paradoxes. 

CONDUCT IN WAR SUPERIOR TO ACTION. 

The still and mental parts, — 
That do contrive how many hands shall strike, 
When fitness calls them on; and know, by measure, 
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight, — 
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity: 
They call this — bed-work, mappery, closet-war ■ 
So that the ram, that batters down the wall, 
For the great swing and rudeness of his poise. 
They place before his hand that made the enginej 
Or those, that with the fineness of their souls 
By reason guide his execution. 

RESPECT. 

I ask, that I might waken reverence. 
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
The youthful Phoebus. 

ACT II. 

DOUBT. 

The wound of peace is surdity. 
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd 
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
To the bottom of the worst. 

PLEASURE AND REVENGE. 

For pleasure, and revenge, 
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voi<je 
df an J true decision. 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 819 

THE SUBTILTY OF ULYSSES, AND STUPIDITY OT AJAX. 

Jljax. I do hate a proud man, as I hate the engen- 
dering of toads. 

Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it not strange! 

[Aside 

Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field to-morrow. 

Agam. What's his excuse? 

Ulyss. He doth rely on none; 

But carries on the stream of his dispose, 
Without observance or respect of any, ( 

In will peculiar and in self-admission. 

Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair request, 
Untent his person, and share the air with usr 

Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request's sake 
only. 
He makes important: Possess'd he is with greatness 
And speaks not to himself but with a pride 
That quarrels at self-breath: imagin'd wqfth 
Holds in his blood such swollen and hot discourse, 
That, 'twixt his mental and his acftver parts, 
Kingdom'd Achilles in commotion rages, 
And batters down himself: What should I say? 
He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens of it 
Cry — No recovery. 

Agam. Let Ajax go to him. 

Dear lord, go you and greet him in his tent: 
'Tis said, he holds you well; and will be led, 
At your request, a little from himself. 

Ulyss, O Agamemnon, let it not be so! 
We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes 
When they go from Achilles; Shall the proud lord 
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam* 
And never suffers matter of the world 
Enter his thoughts, — save such as do revolve 
And ruminate himself — shall he be vvorshipp'd 
Of that we hold an idol more than he? 
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord 
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquir'd; 
^or, by my will as subjugate his merit. 

*Fat. 



820 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARfi. 

As amply titled as Achilles is, 

By going to Achilles: 

That were to enlard his fat already pride; 

And add more coals to Cancer,* when he burns 

With entertaining great Hyperion, 

This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid; 

And say in thunder — Jlchilles, go to him. 

Nest. O; this is well; he rubs the vein of him. 

[Aside. 

Dio. And how his silence drinks up this applause! 

[Aside. 

Ajax. If I go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll pashf 
him 
Over the face. 

Agam. O, no, you shall not go. [pride. 

Ajax. An he be proud with me, I'll pheezej his 
Let me go to him. 

Ulyss. ^if^ot for the worth that hangs upon our 
quarrel. 

A,jax. A paHa-yV insolent fellow, 

Nest. How he describes 

Himself! [Aside. 

Ajax. Can he not be sociable? 

Ulyss. The raven 

Chides blackness, [Aside. 

Ajax. I will let his humours blood. 

Agam.. He'll be physician, that should be the 
patient. [Aside. 

Ajax. An all men 

Where o' ray mind, 

: Ulyss. Wit would be cut of fashion. 

[Aside. 

Ajax. He should not bear it so, 
He should eat swords fir?t: Shall pride carry it,'' 

Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [Aside. 

* The sign in the Zodiac into which the sua enters 
June 21. 

" And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze.'* 

Thomson, 
t Strike. % Comb, or curry. 



TROILUS AND CRESSIBA. 821 

Ulyss. He'd have ten shares. 

[Aside. 

Sjax. I'll knead him, I will make him supple: 

ISest. He's not yet thorough warm: force* him 
with praises: 
Pour in, pour in; his ambition is dry. [Aside. 

Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this dislike. 

[ To Agamemnon. 

Nest. O noble general, do not do so. 

Dio. You must prepare to fight without Achilles, 

Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does him 
harm. 
Here is a man-— But 'tis before his face; 
I will be silent. 

Nest. Wherefore should you so? 

He is not emulous,! as Achilles is. 

Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as valiant. 

Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palterj thus with 
us! 
I would, he were a Trojan. 

Nest. What a vice 

Were it in Ajax now 

Ulyss. If he were proud.' 

Dio. Or covetous of praise ? 

Ulyss. Ay, or surly borne? 

Dio. Or strange, or self-aflfected.'' 

Ulyss. Thank the heavens, lord, thou art of sweet 
composure; 
Praise him that got thee, she that gave thee suck; 
Fam'd be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature 
Thrice fam'd beyond all erudition: 
But he that disciplin'd thy arms to fight, 
Let Mars divide eternity in twain. 
And give him half; and, for thy vigour 
Bull-bearing Milo his addition§ yield 
To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom 
Which, like a bourn, |1 a pale, a shore, confines 
Thy spacious and dilated parts: Here's Nestor, — 
Instructed by the antiquary times. 

♦ Stuff. t Envious. t Triile. § Titles . 

11 Streojv,.-'-!"* 



322 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE 

He must, he is, he cannot but be wise; — 
But pardon, father Nestor, were your days 
As gr.een as Ajax', and your brain so temper'd, 
You should not have the eminence of him, 
But be as Ajax. 

^jax. Shall I call you father? 

Nest. Ay, my good son. 
"\ Dio. . . Be rui'd by him, lord Ajax. 

Ulyss. There is no tarrying here; the hart Achilles 
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general 
To call together all his siate of war; 
Fresh kings are come to Troy; To-morrow, 
We must with all our main of power stand fast: 
And here's a lord, — come knights from east to west. 
And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. 

Jlgam. Go we to council. Let Achilles sleep; 
Light boats sail swifi, though greater hulks draw 
deep. 

ACT IIL 

AN EXPECTING LOVER. 

No, Pandarus, I stalk about her door, 
Like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks, 
Staying for waftage. O, be thou my Charon, 
And give me swift transportance to those tields. 
Where I may wallow in the lily-buds 
Propos'd for the deserver! O gentle Pandarus, 
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, 
And fly with me to Cressid! 

# # * * # 

I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. 
The imaginary relish is so SAveet 
That enchants my sense: What will it be, 
When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed 
Love's thrice-reputed nectar.^ death, I fear me: 
Swooning destruction; or some joy too fine, 
Too subtle-potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, 
For the capacity of my ruder pov/ers: 
I fear it much: and I do fear besides, 
That I shall lose distinction in my joys; 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 32» 

As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps 
The enemy flying. 

* # « « « 

Even such a passion cloth embrace my bosom; , 
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; 
And all my powers do their bestowing lose, 
Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring 
The eye of majesty. 

CONSTANCY IN LOVE PROTESTED. 

Tro. True swains in love shall, in the world to 
come, 
Approve their truths by Troilus: when their rhymes, 
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare,* 
Want similes, truth tir'd with iteration. — 
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, 
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate. 
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, — 
Yet, after all comparisons of truth. 
As truth's authentic author to be cited, 
As true as Troilus shall crown upf the verse, 
And sanctify the numbers. 

Cres. Prophet may you be ! 

If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth. 
When time is old and hath forgot itself. 
When waterdrops have v/orn the stones of Troy, 
And blind oblivion swallow'd cities up. 
And mighty states characterless are grated 
To dusty nothing; yet let memory, 
From false to false, among false maids in love. 
Upbraid my falsehood ! when they have said — as 

false 
As air, as water, wind, or .candy earth, j 

As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
Pard to the hind, or stepdame to her son; 
Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of falsehoocTi 
As false as Cressid. 

PRIDE CURES PRIDE. 

Pride b,ath no other glass 
To show itself, but pride; for supple knees 
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. 
* Comparison, t Conclude ii. 



-sgffl BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEAKi.. 

QllEATNESg CONTEMPTIBLE WHEN ON THE DECLINE. 

*Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with for- 
tune, 
Must fall out with men too: What the declin'd is, 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others, 
As feel in his own fall: for men, like butterflies. 
Show not their mealy wings but to the summer: 
And not a man, for being simply man. 
Hath any honour; but honour for those honours 
That are without him, as place, riches, favour. 
Prizes of accident as oft as merit: 
Which when they fall, as being slippery standers, 
The love that lean'd on them as slippery too: 
Do one pluck down another, and together 
Die in the fall. 

HONOUR ML'ST BE ACTIVE TO PRESERVE ITS 
LUSTRE. 

Time hath, my lord, a wa.llet at his back. 
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, 
A great-siz>ed monster of ingratitudes: 
Those scraps are good deeds past: which are de- 

vour'd 
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
As done: Preservance, eiear my lord. 
Keeps honour bright: To have done, is to hang 
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail 
In monumental mockery. Take the instant way. 
For honour travels in a strait as narrow. 
Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path; 
For emulation hath a thousand sons, 
That one by one pursue: If you give way, 
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright. 
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by. 
And leave you hindmost:— 
Or, like a galfant horse fallen in first rank. 
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, [present^ 
O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do in 
Though less then yours in past, must o'ertop yours: 
For time is like a fashionable host, 1 

That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 82B 

And with his arms out-stretch'd, as he would fly, 

Grasps-in the comer: Welcome ever smiles, 

And farewell goes out sighing, 0, let not virtue seek 

Remuneration for the thing it was; ♦ 

For beautv, wit. 

High biith, vigour of bone, desert in service, 

Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all 

To envious and calumniating time. 

One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, — 

That all with one consent, praise new-born gawds,* 

Though they are made and moulded of things past; 

And give to dust, that is a little gilt, 

More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. 

The present eye praises the present object. 

LOVE SHOOK OFF BV A SOLDFER. 

Sweet, rouse yourself: and the weak wanton Cupid 
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold, 
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, 
Be shook to air. 

THERSITES MIMICKING AJAX. 

Ther. A wonder! 

Jichil. What? [himself. 

Ther. Ajax goes up and down the field, asking for 

Jichil. How so ? 

Ther. He must fight singly to-morrow with Hec- 
tor: and is so prophetically proud of an heroical 
cudgelling, that he raves in saying nothing. 

Achil. How can that be? 

Ther. Why, he stalks up and down like a peacock, 
a stride, and a stand: ruminates, like a hostess, that 
hath no arithmetic but her brain to set down her 
reckoning: bites las lip with a politic regard, as who 
should say — there were wit in this hea;l, an 'twould 
out; and so there is; but it lies as coldly in hm as 
fire in a flint, which will not show witho-it knocki.ig. 
The nia:i's undone fo'' ever; for if H'^ctor break not 
his neck i' the combat, lie'I! brea!: it himself in vain- 
glory. He knows not me; I said, Gnod-inorrow, 
Ajaxj and he replies, Thajiks^ Agamemaoa. What 

• Ne»'.fash:onc?d toys. 
?8 



S26 BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

think you of this man, that takes me for the general? 
He is grown a very land-fish, languageless, a mon- 
ster. A plague of opinion ! a man may wear it on 
both side.-:, like a leather jerkin. 

Achil. Thou must be my ambassador to him, 
Thersites. 

Ther. Who, I.'' why, he'll answer nobod}^; he pro- 
fesses not answering; speaking is for beggars; he 
wears his tongue in his arms. 1 will put on his pres- 
ence; let Palroclus make demands to me, you shall 
see the pageant of Ajax. 

Jichil. To him, Patroclus: Tell him, — I humbly 
desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the most valorous 
Hector to come unarmed to my tent; and to procure 
safe conduct for his person, of the magnanimous, and 
most illustrious, six-or-seven-times-honoured captain 
general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. Do this. 

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax. 

Ther. Humph! 

Fatr. I come from the worthy Achilles, 

Ther. Ha! 

Parr. Who most humbly desires you to invite 
Hector to his tent ! 

Ther. Humph! 

Fatr. And to procure safe conduct from Agamem- 
non. 

Ther. Agamemnon.? 

Fatr. Ay, my ioid. 

Ther. Ha! 

Fatr. What say you to't.' 

Ther. God be vri' you, with all my heart. 

Fatt. Your answer, sir. 

Ther. If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven 
o'clock it will go one way or other; however he shall 
pay for me ere he has me. 

Fatr. Your answer, sir. 

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. 

Jichil. Why, but he is not in this tune, is he? 

Ther.^ No, but he's out o' tune thus. What music 
will be in him when Hector has knocked out his 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA.' 327 

brains, I know not: But, I am sure, none; unless the 

fiddler Apollo get nis sinews lo make catlings* on. 

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to him 

straight. 
Ther. Let me bear another to his horse; for that's 
the more capablef creature. 

Achil. My mind is troubled like a fountain stirr'd 
And I m,yself see not the bottom of it. 

[^Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. 
Ther. 'Would the fountain of your mind were 
clear again, that I might water an ass at it! I had 
rather be a tick in a sheep^ than such a valiant igno- 
rance. 

ACT IV. 

LOVERS PARTING IN THE MORNING. 

Tro. O Cressida! but that the busy day, 
Wak'd by the lark, hath rous'd the ribald^ crows, 
And dreaming night will hide our joys no longer, 
I would not from thee. 

Crcs. Night hath been too brief. 

Tro. Beshrew the witch ! with venomous wights 
she stays, 
As tediously as hell: but flies the grasps of love, 
With wings more momentary swift than thought. 
A lover's farewell. 

Injurious time now, wnth a robber's haste, 
Crams liis rich thievery up, he knows not how: 
As many farewells as be stars in heaven. 
With distinct breath, and cGnsiga'd§ kisses to them, 
He fumbles up into a loose adieu; 
And scants us,with a single famish'd kiss: 
Distasted with the salt of broken || tears. 

TROILUS'S CHARACTER OF THE GRECIAN YOUTHS. 

The Grecian youths are full of quality;ir 

* Lute-strings made of Cafgut. 
t Intelligent. % Lewd, noisy. 

§ Sealed. I! Interrupted. 

ix Highly accomplished. 



S2S BEAUTIES OF SHAKSPEARE. 

They're loving, well compos'd, with gifts of nature 

flowing, 
And swelling o'er with arts and exercise; 
How novelty may move, and parts with persoUi 
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy 
(Which I beseech you, call a virtuous sin,) 
Makes me afeard. 

> TRUMPETER. 

Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe: 
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cheek 
Out-swell the colic of putl'd Aquiion: 
Come, stretch t hy chest, and let thy eyes spout blood , 
Thou blovv'st for Hector. 

DIOMEDES' MANNER OF WALKING. 

'Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait; 
He rises on thv° toe: that spirit of his 
In aspiration lifts him from the earth. 

DESCRIPTION OF CHESSIDA. 

There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip. 
Nay, her foot speaks: her Avanton spirits look out 
At every joint and motive* of her body. 
O, these encounterers, so glib of tongue, 
That give a coasting welcome ere it comes, 
And wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts 
To every ticklish reader! set them down 
For sluttish spoils of opportunity. 
And daughters of the game. 

CFIARACTER OF TROTLUS. 

The youngest son of Priam, a true knight; 
Not yet mature yet matchless: firm of word; 
Speaking in deeds, and deedlessf in his tongue; 
Not soon provok'd, nor, being provok'd soon calm'd^ 
His heart and hand both open, and both free; 
For what he has, he gives, what thinks, he shows; 
Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty. 
Nor digni-i^s an impawl thought with breath 
Manlv a3 Hector, but more dangerous: 
For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribcs§ 

* Motion. t No boaster. 

i Unsuitable to hie character § YieldSj gives way. 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 329 

To lender objects; ])ut he, in heat of action; 
Is more vindicative than jealous love. 

HECTOR IN BATTLE, 

I hrxve, thou gallant Trojan, seen thee oft, 
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way, [thee, 

Through ranks of Greekish youth: and T have seen 
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed, 
Despising many forfeits and subduements, 
When thou hast hung thy advanced ssvord i' the air, 
Not letting it decline on the declined;* 
That I have said to some my standers-by, 
Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life! 
And I have seen thee pause, and take thy breath. 
When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee in, 
Like an Olympian wrestling. 

ACHILLES SURVEYING! HECTOR. 

Tell me, you heavens, in which part of his body 
Shall I destroy him? whether Ih.^re, there, or there <* 
That I may give the local wounii a name; 
And make distinct the very breach whereout 
Hector's great spirit flew:. Answer me, heavens! 

ACT V. 

RASH vows. 

The gods are deaf to hot and peevishj vows, 
They are polluted offerings, more abhorr'd 
Than spotted livers in the sacrifice. 

HONOUR MORE DEAR THAN LIFE. 

Mine honour keeps the weather'of my fate: 
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man 
Holds honour far more precious-dear+ than life. 

PITY- TO BE DISCARDED IN WAR. 

For the love of all the gods, 
Let's leave the hermit pity with our mother; 
And when we have our armour.? buckled on, 
The venora'd vengeance ride upon our swords. 

* Fallen. t Foolish. 

t Valuable. 

2S * 



INDEX 

TO THE 



A CHILLES depcribcrl by Ulyssos - - - 317 

-^ surveying Hector ... - 829 

Actionj the power of .----- So 

to be carried on •with resolution - - - 161 

Adversityj advantages of ' - - - - - 15 

the trial of man ----- 316 

Advice ..--..--►- 9 

to a son go\n^ on his travels - - - - 2(H> 

Affectation in words ..---- 4S 

Affection, natural, allied to love - - - - 77 

Age, old - 2o, 213 

despised ------- 272 

Ages, the seven, a description of - » - - 19 
Allegiance, firm, described ----- ^ 164 

Ambition jealous of a too successful friend - - - 174 

clothed in specious humility - - - 230 

Ambitious love ------- 9 

Anarchy, the mischiefs of ----- 183 

Anger described ------- 160 

external effects of ----- 164 

Antony, Mark, his vices and virtues - . - 170 
his speech to Cleopatra at his return with 

victory - . - - 176 

his despondency - - - - ib/ 

his reflections on his faded glory - 177 

his address to the corpse of Cesar - 232 

his speech to the conspirators - - 233 

funeral oration of - - - - 234 

his character of Brutris . - - 243 

Aposiopesis, a fine one .-_,_- 70 

Appearances, false, de:5crib©d ----- 133 

Applause, description of ----- - 166 

Ariel, songs of ------- C9, 77 

Army, routed, description of one - - - - 202 

Arthur, pathetic speeches of, to Hubert ... 102 

Assignation ---.-.• 62 
Astrology ridiculed ----- . ^ ^ 244 

Aufidiuw, his hatred to Coriolantw - - • • 181 



332 INDEX. 

Authority, abuse of -- 33 

the privilege of . _ . - . 34 

Bargains, punctuality in - - - - - - 118 

Bastardy - 243 

Bawd, the practices of one condemned - - . 38 

Beauty - - - - - - - - - 14, 26 

a scornful and satirical one . - - - 60 

petitioning in vain ------ 84 

description of a - - - - - - 288 

Bedlam Beggars 248 

Bees, the commonwealth of, described - - - 132 

Benedict, the bachelor's recantation - . - 59 

Birth, high 154 

Boaster ......--. 97 

Bolingbroke's public entry into London described - 111 

Boy, description of a beautiful one - - - - 78 

Braggart 199 

a cowardly one ------ 13 

Braggarts, talking ------- 62 

Bribery, honest ------- 34 

Brutus and Cassius, tent scene between - - . 238 

the parting of - - - - 242 

Buckingham, Duke of, his prayer for the kitig - - 161 

Caliban, curses of ------ - 68, 70 

his exultation after having attempted the 

chastity of Miranda - - - - 68 

his promises _._.-- 70 

Calumny - - 215 

Cassius, his contempt for Cesar _ - - _ 229 

Ceremony insincere .-_.-. 237 

Cesar, his dislike of Cassius ----- 229 

Chastity 13, 188 

Cheerfubiess - 40 

Christmas-time, reverence paid to - - - - 204 

Churchman, description of one ----- 168 

Clarence's dream in the tower - - - - 154 

Cleopatra, her solicitude in tlie absence of Antony - 172 

her sailing down the Cydnus described - ib. 

her infinite power of pleasing - - - 173 

her supposed death, dcscrifition of - - 177 

her reflections 011 the death of Antony - ib. 

her dream atid description of Antony - 178 

her speech -on applying the asp - - 179 

Cominius, his praise of Coriolanus in the senate - 182 

Compassion and clemency superior to revenge - - 75 

Conduct in war superior to action - - - - 318 

Conscience .-- 160 

guilty 74 

the death-bed horrors of a - - 145 



INDEX. 333 

Conscience, & good one described - - - 144 

the struggles of - - - - 103 

a murderer's account of - - - 156 

Consideration - - - - - 131 

Consolation under banishment - - » 107 

Conspiracy, horrors of . _ - - 99 

dreadful till executed - ... 230 

Brutus's apostrophe to - - - ib. 

Contemplation, zealous, described - - . 157 

Content, perfect - . . - ■ 276 

Contention --.--. 123 

Continence before marriage . - - - 74 

Cordelia, her speech on the ingratitude of her sisters 253 

Coriolanus, an imaginary description of his warring 181 

character of - - - - 184 

his abhorrence of flattery - - ib. 

his dete-tatlori of the vulgar - - 185 

his prayer for his son - - - 188 

Counsel of no weight in misery . - - 62 

Countenance, a guilty one described - - 143 

Country, an oppressed one - - - « 269 

Courage ..._-- 96 

in youth ----- 14 

Courtezans, Timon's reflections on - - - 307 

Courtier, noble, character of a - - -10 

a conceited one - - - - 26 

finical, description of one by Hotspur - 115 

Cowardice - - - - - - 10 

and perjury - - . - 99 
Cranmcr, archbishop, his prophecy respecting 

Queen Flizabeth - - - - 168 

Cressida, description of her - - - . - 328 

Crown, reflections on a - - » - 126 

the transports of a - - - - 146 

Cruelty, dissuasions from exercising - - 231 

Cupid's parentage ----- 22 

Customs, new ones followed . - - - 161 

Danger 116, 232 

escape from ----- 78 

takes hold of any support - - - 102 

Day -break 56, 64, 159 

Death 179, 203 

temporal, far better than eternal - - 36 

terrors of - - - - • 38 

most in apprehension . - 37 

apostrophe to - - * - 100 

approach of - - - - - 100 

arguments against the fear of - - 232 

I>«o«it in a fine woman _ - . - 156 



334 * INDEX. 

Deed, a good one compared to a candle - - 50 

Defamation - - - - - - 23 

Degree, reflections on - - - - - 316 

Delay, against . _ _ - _ 13 

Delights, violent ones not lasting ... 294 

Departing diseases, strength of - - *• 102 

Dependents not to be too much trusted by great men 161 

Desdemona, her fidelity _ . _ _ 284 

Desire of beloved objecis heightened by their loss - 62 

Despair, description of .... 105 

Despondency ---... 101 

Determined love ..... 78 

Dew in flowers . . . . . 56 

Diomedes, his manner of walking ... 328 

Dirge, a funeral one - - - - - - 201 

Disguise ...... 78 

Dissimulation ..... 61 

Doubt, description of ... - 318 

Dover cliff, description of - - - - 252 

Dreams, reflections on _ . . . 287 

Drums - - ' - - - - 106 

Drunkards enchanted by Ariel ... 75 

Duelling, arguments against ... 304 

Duty, modest, always acceptable ... 57 

virtuous, the power of - - - 34 

doing of it tiierits no praise . . „ 181 

Dying with the person beloved preferable to parting 145 

Edgar, his account of discovering himself to his father 255 

Eloquence and beauty .... 31 

England, description of - - - - 96 

invincible if unanimous . - - 106 

pathetically described ... 108 
apostrophe to - - - - 109, 133 

English curiosity, satire on - - - - 70 

army described .... 96 

miserable state of - - - 140 

Envy - - 232 

Evening, a fine one - - - - - 159 

Evils, the remedy of them generally in ourselves - 10 

Expedition, what ..... 158 

Eyes, women's ..... 29 

Fairy jealousy, and its effects ... 53 

bank described .... 55 

courtesies ..... to. 

Fairies and magic ..... 76 

Falstaff's catechism .... - 121 

Father, authority of one .... 51 

lamenting his daughter's infamy - - 61 

fondness of one for his child . - 87 



INDEX. 335 

Father, passion of one on the murder of a favourite - 

child 147 

the best guest at his son's nuptials - - 73 

anger of one .... 243 

the curse of one on his child - - 244 

Faults of others no justification of our owu - - 32 

Favourites compared to honeysuckles - - 60 

Female friendship ..... 55 

Females, cautions to young ones ... 206 

Ferdinand, his swimming ashore described - - 69 

and Miranda, interesting scene between 71 

FiUal ingratitude ..... 244 

Flattery, and an even-minded man ... 217 

Fleet setting sail, description of - - - 134 

Fool, description of one, and his moralizing on time 17 

his liberty of speech .... 18 

Fool -hardiness - - - - - 199 

Forgiveness, mutual, the duty of - - • 33 

Fornication equal to murder ... 35 

Fortitude, true - - - - - 259 

Fortune ...... 126 

forms our judgments _ . - 175 

Fortune-teller, description of a beggarly one - - 24 

Friend, a forsaken one .... 316 

Friends, parting of .... - 44 

Friendship in love ..... 59 

martial ..... 186 

Friendships, common . . - _ t6. 

Frost 26 

Fury expels fear .... - 175 

Garden scene in Romeo and Juliet ... 288 

Garland for ^>ld men .... - 90 

for middle aged men ... i6. 

for young men - - - - 91 

Gentleman, an accomplished young one - - 82 

Ghost, description of one appearing in a dream - 88 

Ghosts vanish at the crowing of a cock - - 203 

Glory described ..... 142 

Gloster, duke of, his deformity ... 150 

his dissimulation ... ib. 

Dutchess of, her remonstrance to her 

husband when doing penance - - 143 

Earl of, his farewell to the world - - 252 

God, goodness of, ever to be remembered - - 143 

Gods, justice of the - ... - 255 
Gold, reflections on - - - - 126, 306 

effects of - • - - - - 310 

Governor, a severe one .... 31 

Gratitude in an old servant • • ■ ,16 



836 INDEX. 

Gravity, affected - - _ - . 4^ 

assumed - - - . . 43 

Greatness subject to censure > . - jj9 

the cares of .... 15(5 

when falling described ... I(j4 

depariing . - - - - 176 

coutemptible when on the decline - 324 

Grief 99,109 

tokens of ..... 9g 

real 204 

immoderate discommended ... ify^ 

GtiqU, the greater ones destroy the less - - 124 

Hamlet his soliloquy on his mother's marriage - 205 

his speech on the appearance of his father's ghost, 

and the mischiefs it might tempt him to 
and the ghost, scene between 
his mad address, described by Ophelia 
his reflections on the player and himself 
his soliloquy on li*o and death 
his instructions to the pl.ayers 
his reflections on the king - . - 

conference between him and his mother 
his irresolution • - 
his reflections on Yorick's scull 
Happiness consists in ojiinion . - - 

Hatred, remorseless . - - - - 

Health, a - - - - - 

Hector, description of him in battle 
Henry IV. his character of Percy and prince Henry 

his pathetic address to his son 
Henry Prince, soliloquy of - 

modest challenge of - . . - 

modest deleiice of himself 

his pathetic speech on the death of 

Hotspur ... 

*and his lather, scene between 

V. character of, by his father 

by the constable of France - 
perfections of 
ihis speech belore the battle of Agincourt 

VI. on his own lenity ... 
VIII. his character of Queen Katharine 

Honour - - . . 

due to personal virtue only, and not to birth 
a maid's . . . - « 

to be conferred on merit only 
and policy - - - - J 

must be active to preserve ita lustre 



INDEX- 53T 

Honour more dear than life ... 329 
Hope ...... 36, 159 

dcG-itPjl 109 

Horror, its outward effects described - - 16-t 

Hounds - - - - - - 57 

Hiiiitiiig .---.. 56 

Hypocrisy ...... 105 

in a governor ... - 38 

Hypocrite, the character of an arch one - - 39 

lajro, his dispraise of honesty ... 273 

Jealousy . - ' . . . - 24, 87 

a woman's, more deadly tlian poison - 24 

definition of - - - - . 278 

Jest and Jester ..... 29 

Jesicr ...... 80 

Jew, malice of the ..... 42 

expostulation of the - - ' - - ib. 

his conimarid.s to his daughter ... 43 

his revenge ..... 45 

Imagination, the power of - • . . 57 

Imogen, her bedchamber, scene of - - - 191 

in boys clethes .... 198 

awuUi ng ..... 202 

Infant, o.xposi'ig of one .... 88,89 

lufidclity in a friend ..... 8ft 

Inhiinity, the faults of, pardonable ... 24(5 

Ingratitude, a song ..... 19 

of false i'riends .... 303 

miserable shifts of ... H), 

Inlmrr.anity describud .... 163 

Inconstanc/ in man ..... 86 

Iniiccence ...... gs 

discovered by the countenance - - 61 

youthful . - - . . 86 

silent, its eloquence ... 88 

harmless ..... 193 

Insects, cruelty to - - . . - 314 

Jo^/, an usurping substitute compared to it • - 67 

changed tfi sorrow .... 299 

Juliet, resolution of . - - - - 297 

her solilo.piy on drinking the opiate - - ib. 

Katharine, Q,ueen, her speech to lier hushand - 162 

her speech to Cardinal Wolsey 163 

Oil her own tp.ertt ^^ - . ib. 

compared to a lily . - 164 

Kent, county jf, described .... 146 

Kin<j, in Hamlet, his despairing soliloquy - - 218 

Kings, evil purposes of, tw tervllelv cxecatod - 104 
'29 



INDEX. 



Kings, misery of - - 


■ - 


110 


divinity of - - 


- 


225 


Labour - - . 


. 


198 


Lady a complete one ^^ 


. 


97 


Lavina at lier lute 


- 


- 313 


the loss of her tongue described 


314 


Lear, on tlie ingratitude of his dau 


ghters 


247 


his distress in the storni 


- 


ib. 


his exclamations in the tempest 


248 


his distraction described 


. 


251 


his description of his flatterers 


3 


232 


and Cordelia, scene between 


- 


253 


his speech to Cordelia when taken prisoner 


i,55 


on the death of Cordelia 


- 


256 


dying - - - 




257 


Liberty indulged, the consequence 


of it 


31 


spirit of it - 




229 


Life chequered 




13 


reflections on the vanity of 




36 


recluse, described 




61 


demands action 




122 


the vicissitudes of it 




165 


' loathed 




176 


and death, soliloquy on 




214 


necessaries of it few 




247 


reflections on 




273 


Lightness of foot 




75 


Lion, a hungry one described \ 




147 


Loquacity 




41 


Love ... 




2S, 52 286 


humorous description of it 




27 


tlie power of - 




28 


in a grave severe governor 




35 


messenger, compared to an April day - « 


45 


true, ever crossed 




52 


in idleness 




54 


true - - . 




79 


concealed 




80 


unsought 




ib. 


commended and censured 




81 


forward and dissembling- 




t6. 


oonipared to an April day 




ib. 


a wayn image 




82 


contempt of it punished 


_ a ■ 


ib. 


increased by attempts to suppress it 


83 


compared to a figure on ice 


m » • 


84 


unreturned 


• • ■ 


85 


cem«nted by prosperity, but loosened by adven 


ity 93 



INDEX. 339 

Love, the nobleness of life - - - - 170 

sole motive of Othello's marrying - - 274 

heralds of 294 

invitation to - - - • - 312 

in a brave young soldier - - - - 315 

constancy in, protested - - - - 323 

shook off by a soldier - - - - 325 

Lover, a description of one . - - 17, 20 

a successful one compared to a conqueror - 47 
his thoughts compared to the inarticulate joys 

of a crowd ----- t6. 

speech of one ----- 69 

protestations of one - - . - 74 

his banishment - - - - 83 

a faithful and constant one . - - t&. 

description of one in solitude - - 85 

exclamation of one - - - - 276 

his computation of time - - - 280 

an expecting one described - . - 321 

the parting of one - - . « 331 

Lovers parting ----- 145 

unsettled humours of - - - - 297 

light of foot - . - - - 294 

impatience of - - - • - ib. 

their reluctance to part . - - 296 

parting in the morning - - - 327 

Loyalty, - - - - - - 115 

Macbeth, his temper ----- 257 

his irresolution - . - - 258 

his guilty conscience and fears of Banquo 263 
Lady, her soliloquy on the news of Duncan's 

approach ----- 258 

murj^ring scene in - - - 259 
Macduff, his behaviour on the murder of his wife and 

children ----- 269 

Madness occasioned by poison - . - 106 

Maidens, their prayers effectual - - - 32 

Malcolm, his character of himself - - - 268 

Malicious men described - - . - 168 

Man, description of a merry one - - . 26 

in love humo^^us description of - - 31 

three things in him disliked by females - 84 

in tears • - - - - 105 

reflections on - - - - - 212 

Man's pre-eminence ----- 23 

Margaret, Queen, her speech before the battle of 

Tewkesbul-y - - . . . 151 



340 



INDEX. 



IVtargaret, Q,ueen, hor execrations on Hichard III. - 

her exprobation in a soliloquy 
Marriage described - - 

blaster taking leave of his servants 
Mediocrity ------ 

Melancholy ------ 

the varieties of - 

the parent of error - - . 

Men all frail ------ 

wilful 

Pilercy - - 

frequently mistaken - . . . 

Commended in governors - - - 

P*Ierit always modest - . - _ 

Messenger, post, described - - - - 

" with ill news - - . - 

Midnight ------ 

Mind, lowliness of the - - - - 

the, alone valuable . - - - 

a disordered one - - , - 

its diseases incurable _ _ - 

Mirth and melancholy - . _ . 

Mob 

no stability in one . . - - 

Modesty m youth - . - - - 

Moon ------ 

Moonlight - - - - - 

night - - - - 

Morning, description of , - 

dawn of - 
Mother, fonduess of one for a beautiful child 

ravings of one . - - . 

grief of one for the loss of her son 
Murdei of the two youjig princes in the Tower de- 
scnpiton of - - - - 

Murderer, rountonance of one 

Muse invocation to - 

Music .-----• 

Nature, the force of - - - , . 

and art - - - - " 

Newsbearer .----. 

Night, description of - 

Ni^ht in a carup described . - - 

Obedience to {)rin(;es . - - . 

Octavii's entr-^uce, what it should have been 
Offences mistaken ----- 

Oliver, his description of danger when' sleeping 
Ophelia, descriptiou of her death 



- 148, 



157 
103 
131 
46, go 
196 

eo 

104 
58, 146 
185 
164 
174 
1^6 
22 
22S 



INDEX. 341 

Ophelia, her intermciil ... - 227 

Opportunity to be seized on all occasions of life - 242 

Ornament, or ap|)earaiices, the deceit of - - 46 
Olhelloj his description to the Senate of his winning 

the affections of Desdeniona - - 274 

his tirst suspicion _ . - - 276 

his jealousy gaining ground - - 277 

his story of the handkerchief - - 2S0 

his distraction _ - - - ib. 

his fondness > - . - 281 

his confirn^od jealousy . _ . ib. 

his pathetic upbraidings of Desdeniona - 282 

his irresolution to murder Desdemona - 284 

his confusion after the murder . - - 2S5 

liis love .... - ib. 

his remorse . - - - - ib. 

his speech before his death - - - 2S6 

Painting ....-- 64 

to what compared . - - - 302 

Pardon, the sancrion of wickvdness - - 31 

despair of - - - - - 88 

J*assion, real, dissembled _ - - . 21 

too strong for vows . - ■ 74 

a rising one described - - - 246 

pastors, ungracious, satires on - - - 206 

Patience easier taugiit than practised . - 23 

and sorrow - - - - • 251 

Patriotism 227 

Peace inspires luve ----- 58 

after &. civil war . - « - 113 

after a siege _ . - - - 189 

People, Bi utus's speech to the _ - - 233 

Percy, Lady, her pathetic speech to her husband - 116 

Perfection admits of no addition . - - 103 

human, the extent of - - - 206 

Person, descripMot; of a murdered or.e - - 1^^ 

Petition, a tendtsr one . . - - 18 

Philosophy, a shepherd's . - - - ^0 

Pity to be discarded in war - - - - 329 

Play-fellows - }j 

Pleasure, the vanity of - - - - 25 

and reven^'-e . , - - 318 

of doing good _ - - - 302 

Poetry, the power of, with femal' s - - - 84 

Popular favour, method to gain - - - 184 

Popularity described .... 108, 182 

Portia, her suitors ----- 44 

her picture ----- 47 

29* 



542 INDEX 

Portia, her speech to Brutus - •. - 

Possession more languid than expectation 
Power, vanity of, and misery of kings 

abase of - - - - - 

Precepts against ill fortune .... 
Preferment ... . . 

Presents prevail with women - - . - 

lightly regarded by real lovers 
Pride cures pri<io - - - - . 

Prodigies __-... 

ridiculed - . . - - 

Promise and perlbrmanco, difference between 
Prospcro's reproof of Ariol - - - - 

Providence directs our action-? - 

the justice of . . - - 

Puck .-..-.- 
Quickly, Danr.e, her account of Fuls^afT's death. 
Regicides detestable - - - - - 

Relenting tenderness - . . - - 

Re[)entanc3 .-..-. gg 

Reputation --..-- 107 

Resentment, silent, the deepest ... 143 

Resolution ---.-. 62 

from a sense of honour ... 37 

firm 179 

obstinate ..... 187 

Respect described ..... 3IS 

Revenge -..-.. 233 

the Jew's iniplacablo ... 48 

the Jew's reason for • - - ib. 

Rhymers, miserable ones ridiculed ... 117 

Richard III. omens on the birth of - - . 152 

his soliloquy on his own deformity - ib. 

his love for Lady Aur^e ... 153 

his praise of his own person - - ib. 

his hypocrisy .... 154 

character of, by hi? mother - - 159 

starting in his dream . . • 160 

his behaviour after an alarum - - ib. 

his address before the battle - - ib. 

Ring, descripticu of one ... 313 

Rising early the way to eminence ... 176 

Romeo, on his banishment - « . - 294 

his description of, and discourse with the 

apothecary - ... - 299 

his conduct with Paris , . «, 801 

his last speech over Juliet in the tomb , - 273 

I\«!»aUnd proposing to wear men's clothes - ■ 14 



INDEX. 



343 



Royalty, miseries of - 


- 




i:J3 


inborn 


« 




lf>9 


Rumour described 


- 




122 


Satire, apology for 


- 




18 


Say, Lord, his apology for himself 


- 




146 


Scene of a banquet - 


- 




264 


Scene of Lady Macbeth in her sdct-p 




271 


Season, nothing good out of - 






61 


Setiucers, custom of - 






12 


Self-accusaliou of too great love 






11 


Selt'-denial, a conquest 






23 


Self-interest, powerful ctFjcts of 






07 


Senses returning 






76 


Shepherd, character of an honest and simpls one 




20 


Shepherd's life, the blessings of one 






lis 


Simphcity and duty - 






57 


rur al - - 






93 


Slander ... 






24, 197 


Sleep .... 






69, 231 


sound . . - 






39 


apostrophe to 






125 


Solicitation, the season of 






187 


Soliloquy in prison 






112 


Solitude preferred to a court life 






15 


Song - 






28,79 


a beautiful one - 






39 


ch:-racter of an old one - 






79 


Sonnet - . - 






27 


Sorrow, effects of il 






156 


Sorrows rarely single - 






225 


Speculation mure c:isy than practice 






41 


Spirit, a warhlie one des'^ribed 






l;}2 


Spring, a song 






29 


Station, a low one, the blessings of i 


if« 




143 


Statue describea 






94 


Steward, a faithlui one 






S{)2 


-Stories, melancholy ones described 






111 


Storm, Ariel's description .md managitmKnl of ono 




67 


Study - - . - 






25 


Submission to heaven our duty 






157 


Success not equal to our liupcs 






316 


Sun rising after a dark nigiil - 






110 


Sycophajits, Haltering ones 






252 


Tears, to what compared 






SI 4 


Thanks 






812 


Thersites mimicking Ajax 






S25 


Thoughts inetfectual to moderate affliction - 




108 


ambitious, a smite on 


• • , 




14» 



344 



INDEX. 



Timo 

Timon, his execration of the Athenians 
his speech to Alcibiades 
his retiections on the earth 
iiis Jiscoursc with Apeniantus 
his sjieech to the thieves 
his character ol" an honest steward - 
Titles, new ones - - - ■ 

Travelhug, advantage of - 

'j'roilus, character of - 

'■"riist in man, vanity of - - - 

.'rumpeter, description of one 
Valley, descri!)tion of a inelauclioly one 
Tirtue and goodness - - - - 

Vanity of luunan nature . - - 

wisiies ... 

"X'iciou.s ])crso:!? iniii'. uutcd i)y heaven 
Victory bv the French, detscripiion of 

English 
Villain to be noted .... 

lus look and ready zeal 
Violets ..... 

Virtue given to he exerted ... 
Ulysses, the sublilty of hi>n, and stupidity of Ajax 
Unlvindness described 

^ olumnia's resolution on the pride of Conolanns 
pathetic speech to her son C'yriolanus 
Vov.'s, rash ones, condetnnod . - - 

Vulgar, hckien<;ss of t!;e - . - 

Vv'ai, prognostics of - - - - 

miseries of . . - - 

Warrior, a gallant oue - . - 

Warwick, earl of, his dying E[)ccch 
\edding, a mad one described 
•Vidcw compared to a turtle ... 
'^'ife, duty of one to her husband 
song of one to her husband 
^ des(',ri[)tion of a good one 

inijiatience of one to meet her husband 

innocency of one . . _ 

Winter, a song . . . ■ 

Wisdom superior to fortune - - - 

Witches described . . - - 

power of . « - - 

Wolsey, Cardinal, his speech to CromweiJ - 

an account of his death - 

his vices and virtues described 

Woman, he- tonjju^ - - . 



INDEX. fi-r, 

t 

Woman should be youngest in love - - • 7d 

her fears - - - - 98 

resolved and ambitious one - - - 142 

in man's apparel ... - 199 

Womenj frailty of - - - - - '^& 

want greatly prevails on them - - 176 

satire on - - - - - 194 

Wonder, proceeding from sudden joy - - 93 

World, its true value ----- 40 

Worldliiiess ..-..- ib. 

WrtH'k, a clown's d.^scription of one - - - 89 

Wroiii' and insolence described _ . - "i5 

York, duke of, iiis death tiescribed - - - l4l 

his character of his sons - ' - 147 

in battle, description of him - - 148 

York, Dutchess of, her lamenlanon on the misfortunes of 

her family ...» 157 

Young women, advice to them - - ", ^2 

Youth, courage and modesty in them - • 14 

tlwi boasting of - - - - 48 

Youths, Grecian, described hy Troilus - • 228 



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